The Definition of Family
by DragonDancer5150
Summary: “It’s Honda. There’s been an accident. Go find Mutou Grandfather. Now!” - True family is not defined by blood and marriage alone.
1. Chapter 1  The Jaws of Death

Author's Note: As always, a big THANK YOU to my awesome beta's, MyAibou and PharaonicWolf. I _love_ you guys!! XD

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 1 – The Jaws of Death

Cognition returned in slow degrees, bringing with it a level of pain he had never known before. Or at least, could not remember . . .

He lay for a moment longer, attempting to take stock of himself, sense where it was that he was so damaged, but it seemed as though everything hurt. _All right, then. What hurts the _most? _Left leg, left arm – definitely left arm . . . ribs, head . ._

_What happened . . . ?_

Eyes still closed, he tried to think back to the last thing he could recall, but it was proving almost impossible to concentrate through the pain and disorientation. Then, an image hit him – one of gaping reptilian jaws bearing down on his face.

_AMMIT!!_

Yami sprang to his feet in a heartbeat . . . and dropped again the next instant, his left leg giving out from under him. Collapsing to his knees, he threw his right arm out to catch himself as his left hung limp at his side. His head pounded, and he found that he could not see straight. He snarled in frustration and fear, forcing both his eyes and mind to focus past the agony.

A sound like a gunshot had broken through the noise of rain and traffic. Yami had taken over to respond to the threat, but had not been able to act fast enough as . . . as _something_, something big, had hit him and sent him flying. He thought that he must have blacked out because he did not remember anything more until opening his eyes to the sight of – _Gods, that _had_ to have been Ammit!_ He would never forget that horrific monster, the Egyptian devourer of wicked souls, that once had trapped him as Shadi tested his mind and heart. It was one of only two times he could recall when something had managed to frighten him enough for true terror to lock his mind, however temporarily. He swallowed. _So . . . where am I now? And what of Aibou?!_

Little by little, his sight cleared and his surroundings reconciled around him.

He was in his soul room, the labyrinthine walkways and stairways stretching away from him into seeming infinity. He looked down at himself, but could find no apparent wounds to explain the numbing agony. _No, of course not_, he admonished. _I haven't a body _to_ injure. Which means . . . _He gasped in horror. _AIBOU!!_

He shoved to his feet once more, swayed, and stumbled to the heavy iron door, pulling it open with effort. Across the ephemeral hall between their soul rooms, Yugi's door stood cracked open, and Yami could see his partner's sneakers and the ends of his pant legs lying on the floor within. He lurched across the space, throwing open the door and dropping by his other's side, gathering the insensate soul into his arms. "Aibou! Aibou!!" A soft groan escaped in response, but Yugi did not gain cognition. His ethereal "body" did not show any wounds, either, but Yami was not surprised. This environment reflected not the physical but the psychological. _What's happened to us?!_ Yami knew of only one way to find out. Reluctant as he was to leave his _aibou's_ soul, Yami laid him back down, careful as though he were handling fine porcelain. He arranged the soul of his other heart as comfortably as he could manage, then stepped back out into the hall, traveled through the blackness down the corridor, and slid his spirit into possession of the physical body.

A shallow, choking gasp gurgled its way up his throat as the agony raging through him increased a hundred-fold. Yami forced his eyes open, blinking to clear them, alarmed by a watery red haze tinting his vision for a moment. He lay on his back, apparently, because far in front of him or high above him – he was disoriented enough that he could not rightly tell for sure – appeared to be a ceiling with banks of long fluorescent lights. Something shifted very close on his left, but before he could turn to see what, another figure caught his attention, sudden terror sticking his breath in his throat and threatening to stop his heart. Ammit sat above his head, reared back on hind legs. Blood smeared the arms, chest, and jaws. Then, Yami got a better look at the dark, reptilian god. _That's . . . not Ammit. That's . . . that's . . ._

_Godzilla?!_

"Honda! Dammit, pay attention! He's awake!" That was Jonouchi's voice, from somewhere past his feet and out of sight.

The mass on his immediate left shifted again just then, leaning over him. "Yugi! Hey, d-don't move, okay. You're, ah . . . y-you're hurt pretty bad."

Refocusing, Yami saw that the face of the figure beside him matched the voice, though he had never known that voice to tremble so. He could hear the great effort to remain calm. "H-honda? What . . . h-happened?"

"Shh. Don't talk. Just lay still."

"It probably just looks worse than it actually is. Head wounds bleed an alarming amount even if they're only small cuts. I'm sure he'll be fine." The source of the calm, feminine voice was above and to his right, the tone of soothing confidence telling him she must be an emergency response person of some kind.

Yami scowled and started to sit up. "Honda – !! NNGYAHHH!!" He fell back as the motion pulled on his left arm, shooting new waves of pain through his consciousness, and only too late did he realize that Honda was holding it down. "H-honda!!? D-damn . . . Honda, w-what are you – ?!"

Honda frowned and did not relent, but looked at him a bit askance. He glanced up at a woman standing on Yami's right, barking orders at several of the crowd that had gathered. Leaning in closer, he whispered with a frown. "Yami?"

Yami managed a very small nod, ignoring the fire in his head, but before either of them could say more, the woman heard them talking and twisted around, dropping to her knees. "Listen, hon. Don't move. I'm Kiyoda Miriko. I'm a trauma nurse with Domino Medical Clinic. Can you tell me your name?" Hers was the calm voice of confidence.

Yami swallowed, his throat dry as alarm mounted ever further. "M-mutou Yugi," he croaked.

"Mutou-kun, there's been an accident. An ambulance has already been called, but we need to start stabilizing you now." She looked up as an older gentleman handed her a long-limbed, stuffed monkey toy. "Thank you. Mutou-kun, your friend here is going to tourniquet your arm to staunch the blood flow while I wrap your neck to brace the cervical spine." The elder knelt at Yami's head, gentle hands cradling the sides of his skull as Kiyoda reached for the Millennium Puzzle.

A pitiful squawk wrenched itself from Yami's throat as his good hand came up to clench the chain. "NO! N-no . . . you can't have – "

Honda scowled, shaking his head, even as the old man reached down to loosen Yami's grip, and the embodied spirit startled at the amount of blood covering the gnarled hand. Yami's grasp only tightened, weak though it was, but Honda's words surprised him. "Ya- . . . I mean, Yugi, i-it's . . . it's okay. We gotta get the Puzzle off. Trust me. I won't let anyone take it. I swear." Honda's voice clogged as he spoke.

Just then, Anzu appeared next to Honda, kneeling by Yami's leg. She had started to speak, but the sight caused her to choke in horror. Jonouchi came into view next, leaning over his friends. The flinch in his eyes wrenched at Yami's heart. "Oh, man . . . Hey, you're gonna be okay, buddy. I promise. Just do what she says. She really is a nurse, 'kay? I'm sorry, but you gotta let her do whatever she needs to do."

"You may have some spinal injury. I need to immobilize you. Let go, hon." Her voice was as gentle as her grip was uncompromising.

_G-gods have mercy . ._ .

Yami studied them, this nurse and three of the very few people he truly trusted in this life . . . and peeled his hand from the Puzzle's chain. He would not let even his own protectiveness and pride risk his _aibou_ further harm. He would just have to trust. He glanced at Honda and Anzu, then locked eyes with Jonouchi, unable any longer to keep his own fear from showing, as the nurse nodded and lifted the Puzzle from his chest, slipping the chain up and free with infinite care as the old man manipulated his head. The broken physical contact forced him out of the body and into his soul room with the violence of a shockwave, slamming him back to the floor.

He lay as he had landed, knowing that it would be a long moment – at least! – before he could bring himself to move again.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


	2. Chapter 2 Godzilla

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 2 – Godzilla

_How could this happen?_

No matter how many times Honda asked himself that question, he could not answer it in such a way as to silence its next, incessant echo across his mind.

_How could this happen? Why did this happen? Damn it!! Of all people, WHY YUGI?!_

He blinked back the tears as the other end of the phone line picked up.

"Thank you for calling the Snack Stop. My name is – "

Honda's growl cut off the rest of the scripted greeting. "Kida, stop! Is Sachiko there?"

The girl hesitated. "Honda-kun? Wow, you sound terrible. What's happened?"

"There's been an accident. I need to talk to Sachiko. Now!"

"An accident? You mean like – "

"KIDA!!"

"Ah! R-right." Honda heard the salesclerk cover the phone, though it did little to muffle her yell. He shifted, impatient, watching lights in the intersection change colors. The pouring rain in his eyes made it difficult to see, and he was finding it impossible to keep the cell phone any kind of dry.

"Honda-kun . . . "

He looked up with a grunt as Anzu pointed his attention to the green light. He moved to try to pinch the phone between his jaw and shoulder so he could free his hands, but the young man next to him shook his head, his voice meek. "I'll get him."

Honda scowled, hardly willing to entrust any portion of his friend's care to this stranger. After all, it was this guy who had put Yugi where he was now: bound to a banner-draped surfboard by belts and a jump rope, with some lady's designer scarf for a tourniquet on his arm and a stupid blue monkey around his throat in a pathetic attempt at a neck brace. A layer of Kuribo-printed Hacky Sacks from the Duel Monsters display cushioned Yugi's back and shoulders on the surfboard to keep the glass shards from driving further in.

Despite Honda's reservations, the guy was already lifting Yugi along with Jonouchi and the nurse, Kiyoda, to join the pedestrians on the crosswalk, and there was no time to argue, so long as the job got done. Then, his sister picked up the phone.

"Hiroto? What's going on? Where are you? Kida-chan said there's been an accident!"

Honda swallowed, pulling his eyes away from the mess on the surfboard-turned-spinal-board. Someone had donated a raincoat to protect Yugi from the downpour – a nice gesture even if it had proven futile. "There has. Yugi's been hit by a car."

"H-he what?!"

"Yeah. Listen, I know you and Rumida are having your grand opening and all – heh, obviously, me and the gang aren't gonna make it . . . Sis, I have to ask a favor."

"Name it."

"Send someone over to the Kame Game Store. You know, Yugi's grandfather's place? Mutou-Grandfather's not answering the phone there, either the store phone or the house phone, and none of us can remember Yugi's mom's work number."

He listened to the background noise of his sister's brand-new bayside food stand as she thought for a moment. "Give me twenty minutes. Whose phone are you using? Anzu's?"

"Yeah. Need the number?"

"Nope, I've got it. I'll call you guys as soon as I get a hold of Mutou-Grandfather, 'kay?"

"_You_ get a hold . . . ? So you're heading over yourself? What about the shop?"

He could hear the shrug in her voice. "With the rain, we've had a pretty poor turn-out so far. I think Rumida can handle things for an hour or two, especially considering what's happened. You heading to the hospital down here across from the car dealership?"

"The same. Thanks, sis! I owe you big time."

He half-expected the usual sibling banter about how she would hold him to that, and yet was unsurprised by her answer. "No, little brother. Anything for Mutou-kun and those other friends of yours. Talk to you soon." The line went dead.

Honda dropped the phone into the pocket of his duster, quickening his steps to keep up with the . . . why did "pallbearers" come to mind all of a sudden? _No!_ he snarled to himself. _Yugi's gonna be fine_. He tried not to look at the bloody, ragged white . . . _thing_ that jutted up from the rent flesh of his friend's arm. He had not known that long bones could splinter like that, like a tree limb someone had ripped in two.

"How much further?" Jonouchi's voice sounded thick with fatigue . . . or fear.

"Around the next corner, then up two blocks." That was Kiyoda.

Anzu held back another ragged sob, determined to remain calm and strong for her friend. "Hang in there, Yugi."

"I'm sorry," Honda heard the other guy whimper for the hundredth time. He thought he remembered the guy's name as Tanaka. He heard Jonouchi swallow a growl and saw Anzu give him a half-hearted glare out of the corner of his eye. Honda ignored them all, focusing on the small, pale face.

_Yugi, why couldn't you have kept up with us?_ Not that Honda could really blame him. The toy store on the corner had a display of the newest Duel Monsters oversized plush toys. Yugi's eyes probably had been on the three-foot-tall Dark Magician behind them when the crosswalk light turned green and Jonouchi, Honda, and Anzu started across, unaware that their friend was not at their side as always. Anzu, of course, had been the first to turn and look for him, her voice breaking the engrossment. The light was still green when Yugi darted to catch up, but the bastard approaching the intersection had not stopped at his red light.

Honda drew a deep, steadying breath, pushing fingers through close-cut, brunette hair as his eyes refocused on the stranger helping to carry his friend. To be honest, Tanaka probably could not have stopped in time even if he had not been driving just a little too fast for the rain. A blown front tire had thrown the car out of his control to slam into Yugi, sending him backwards and right through that toy store window. Honda could not help a faint grin even in spite of the severity of the situation. It seemed as though Yugi had landed first in the arms of a giant Godzilla stuffie. _Good thing, really. He could have hit any of a lot of harder stuff, like a display or a divider wall_. It looked as though he had bounced off – they could see from the blood on the toy's front where he had first hit it – and landed at its feet, the monster toppling over on top of him. Hidden as he was under it and among a mess of other toys, they did not find him right away. Anzu had gotten frantic, but Jonouchi finally spotted a sneaker peeking out from beneath the great reptile. Honda was then thanking every Shinto god he could bring to mind for the First Aid class he had taken for extra credit last year as some of his emergency training began to take over, but he knew that Yugi needed far more expertise than he could offer even as he clamped both hands over the compound fracture in his friend's upper arm, recognizing the lethal bleed-out from a broken brachial artery as it was happening.

One of the customers in the store was a nurse from the nearby hospital and, as the crowds gathered, she took charge with surprising calm and efficiency, assigning everyone a task. Honda remained at his post, preventing further blood loss from what appeared to be the most life-threatening of Yugi's injuries. Someone called Emergency Services, while others were tasked with finding something to use as a spinal board and a neck brace. There was a very good chance that they would not be able to wait for an ambulance, what with the traffic jams from the rain, and the hospital was not that far away, but they had to make sure they did not aggravate any unseen injuries as well as address the known ones before they attempted to move him.

Honda had known that Jonouchi and Anzu wanted to be as close to Yugi as possible, but they stayed out of the way of the people who were helping him. However, when Yugi awoke at last, Jonouchi had to grab Anzu to hold her back. Only, Honda had realized from the tone and word choice that it was not Yugi. He figured that made sense. Yami had probably taken over as soon as he realized there was a danger, but even he could not have prevented the accident.

Honda swallowed down yet again on the threatening grief, tears hidden in the rain on his cheeks, as his efforts to keep from looking again at the mess on the surfboard led his eyes to find the chain of the Millennium Puzzle on the back of Jonouchi's neck and disappearing down over the fronts of his shoulders. The sight of the deep and genuine fear in Yugi-turned-Yami's gaze haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

"Oh! Hey, that our ambulance? Looks like it got through after all."

Jonouchi's voice brought Honda back to the present. Jonouchi needed both his hands to hold the surfboard stable, but the tilt of his chin directed attention to the vehicle even now pulling to the side of the street, the driver nodding as Kiyoda flagged him. Honda wondered that the flashing lights and wailing siren had not caught his attention.

A paramedic jumped out of the back, followed by a second, the two wheeling a gurney between them. Kiyoda moved to intercept as they collapsed the legs to drop the carriage to the ground. "Pedestrian car accident, went through a store-front window. Head trauma, glass embedded in back of right shoulder. Left humeral compound fracture. Patient was stabilized as best we could manage before transporting. He regained consciousness for a moment and appeared to be alert and . . . mostly oriented, able to recognize familiar faces, but then lost consciousness again very abruptly and has not regained it since."

The elder of the two paramedics gave the nurse a wry grin. "A surfboard, Kiyoda?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, take a look at the cutting-edge future in modern cervical mounts." She poked at the monkey.

The younger paramedic frowned, looking between the patient and the ambulance. "I know we probably shouldn't remove him, but . . . surfboard's too long."

"Nice deduction, Mister Detective," growled Jonouchi. "What the hell do you think the banner's for? Free movie advertisement?"

"Cool it, Jou." Honda stooped with Jonouchi, Tanaka and the older paramedic, each grabbing an edge of the printed cloth as Kiyoda stabilized Yugi's head, shaking his own at the gaping jaws on either side under the nurse's hands, visible from the picture below Yugi's blood-soaked hair. Yet another Godzilla movie had opened just last week, hence the display with the gigantic plush toy and the banner Kiyoda ordered pulled down to lay under Yugi, knowing he would have to be removed from the surfboard. On a three-count to coordinate their timing, the makeshift stretcher was lifted from the surfboard to a real spinal board the younger paramedic lay on the ground next to it, and Honda could not help a chuckle at the guy startling back from the unexpected yellow-and-purple eyes staring up at him as one of the Kuribo Hacky Sacks fell free. The fabric of the banner was folded down under Yugi's shoulders to clear his head as Kiyoda cushioned and strapped it into a cradle with practiced efficiency. The board was then lifted to the gurney, strapped down, and the gurney pushed into the back of the ambulance.

Jonouchi started to climb in behind the two paramedics once the gurney was in place, only to find them closing the doors on him. "Hey!"

The older paramedic looked sympathetic but resolute. "I'm sorry, son, but I can't let you come with us."

"What do you mean?!" Jonouchi raged.

"Family only. I'm sorry." He tried to pull the door closed a second time.

"B-but . . . " Anzu's jaw snapped shut.

Honda's did not, and he spoke without thinking, naming Yugi as he frequently did Jonouchi. "You can't just leave us! That's our brother you've got!"

The paramedics both stopped, as did Kiyoda, looking over the three in question and speculation. "Brother?" Kiyoda asked with a frown, clearly doubting the claim. Even Tanaka was eyeing them, though he refrained from saying anything.

Jonouchi started to respond, but Anzu "happened" to shift position just then, stomping on his foot. She offered him a nominal apology even as she looked at Honda, her expression pleading with him to think of something.

_Great. As if I'm any good at lying . . _. Ever the most straight-laced of the group – well, except for maybe Yugi – Honda's stomach still knotted a little when he thought about how close he and Anzu had come to being caught upon arrival at Duelist Kingdom Island. Still, he knew how hospital regulations were about visitors. Yugi would be going straight into Intensive Care, and they would not be allowed to see him. Being there for his friend, his "brother," in his time of greatest need was more important than being truthful to these strangers. He fixed the paramedics with what he hoped was a convincing glare of annoyance. "Same mother, different fathers!" Inwardly, he winced, trying not to think what that implied about Yugi's mother, Mutou Michiko.

The younger paramedic looked to the older for a decision. The other frowned, hesitating, but one glance at the patient reminded him that time might very well be running out. He glanced with a severe eye at all three before fixing Honda with a stern look. "Fine. _You_ can come." He shifted back from the door, leaving it open.

Honda moved to climb in, but a grip on his elbow stopped him. He turned, expecting to have to argue with Jonouchi as to which of them would go, but Jonouchi's eyes were sober and unusually intense. He, too, glanced at Yugi. "You take good care of him, bro, you hear me?" He pushed something chill, heavy and sharply angular into Honda's hands. "Both of them. Me and Anzu'll meet you there. Now go!" He shoved on Honda's shoulder, turning him back to the ambulance.

Honda met his eye for a second longer, glanced at Anzu, and nodded, his expression grim. He climbed into the ambulance as Anzu and Tanaka closed the doors, noting the bench lining the right-hand wall as the younger paramedic finished clamping the gurney in place along the left. The elder locked eyes with Honda and pointed at the end of the bench by the door. "Sit. Don't move. Don't interfere." Honda did so without argument, collapsing more than just sitting as he legs gave out from under him. The driver glanced once through the open space between cab and back, confirmed that everyone was set, and took off, sirens wailing.

The younger checked Yugi's eyes for dilation, pulling the lids back to shine a penlight in. To the driver, he reported, "Pupils are normal, equal, and reactive," then placed the clear plastic cup of an oxygen mask onto Yugi's lower face, slipping small loop-straps over his ears. Meanwhile, the elder reached across to push an IV needle into the back of Yugi's right hand, and the mix of blood and alcohol in the air threatened to make Honda dizzy. Then, the driver's voice broke the interior silence, the still-howling siren above them an eerie backdrop to the scene.

"This is Unit Six-Oh-Seven-One. Picked up the patient at the corner of Sachi and Tanagawa. ETA is approximately five minutes with traffic. Patient appears to be a twelve-year-old male with – "

"Seventeen."

"Excuse me?" The driver glanced up into the rearview mirror.

The elder paramedic paused to frown at Honda. Already, he had the IV needle in place, taped down, and the lower arm stabilized on a small board.

Honda swallowed a groan on Yugi's behalf. "Sorry to interrupt, but he's seventeen." He saw the doubt on the others' faces. "I know, I know! Pituitary dwarfism!" he snapped.

Shaking his head, the driver pushed the button of his radio once more. "Dispatch, we stand corrected. Patient is a _seventeen_-year-old male with pituitary dwarfism, so be prepared. He has sustained blunt and sharp trauma to head and left side of body. Compound fracture to left distal humerus. Glass debris embedded in scalp and down back of right side. No apparent neurological damage. Respirations?"

"Even at sixteen per minute. Blood pressure is one-fifteen over seventy."

By this point, the younger had cut off Yugi's jacket and shirt with a pair of large, sharp scissors and an efficiency that was just shy of chilling. The elder took the scissors as he started what Honda recognized as an extremity check, a visual and tactile exploration of the limbs. "Blood and tears on the left pant leg," he reported, the driver repeating for Dispatch. "Cutting away for inspection. Hn . . . massive hematoma and a small bump under the skin about four inches below the knee, indicative of possible simple fracture to tib-fib bones."

A ripping sound brought Honda's attention back to the younger, who was pulling backing papers off of sticky disks with electrical lead wires for a machine on the wall between the gurney and driver. "Okay, kid," the paramedic murmured, soft to stay under the reports of the other two. "Gonna monitor your vitals so Dispatch knows what to expect when we get there." Adhesive pads went to both hollows between shoulder and collarbone, one low to left breast, one to the inside of right elbow, and the elder took two more to stick to the insides of both ankles.

A hard left turn pressed Honda into the corner, nearly knocking from his grip the forgotten weight on his lap. He gazed at his smaller friend. Unconscious and with his clothes stripped back like banana peels, Yugi seemingly had been stripped of all personality as well, indeed of any sign of life at all. He was deathly pale, the only color to his skin being what fresh and dried blood had stained in place, trickles of more blood from the head injuries tracing and pooling along the edges of the head cradle. Condensation spread and cleared against the inside surface of the oxygen mask in slow cycles. The machine on the wall above his head beeped a steady rhythm with the beating of his heart. Closed eyes doused the fires of eagerness, compassion, innocence and lust for life, traits Honda had long come to cherish in his friend. That beloved friend now looked so small and frail on the spinal board meant for a full-sized adult.

A cold feeling washed down Honda's body, flooding through him without warning as both physical and emotional reaction hit at last, full realization of all that had happened slamming through him even as the adrenaline drained out. He felt weak and dizzy, and was only vaguely aware of his own sudden pallor, feeling the blood empty from his face as his respirations quickened to hyperventilation. A sudden hand to the back of his neck shoved forward and down, and Honda found himself staring through a watery haze at the cold, metal floor under his feet, head pressed between his knees. The elder paramedic's voice floated to him from what sounded like a great distance.

"Come on, now, son. No passing out on me. You've been doing just fine. When he wakes, he's gonna need you to be strong for him, so come on. Stay down a spell and concentrate on breathing, nice and slow. Listen to your brother. Breathe when he does. Follow his lead. It's gonna be okay."

Honda swallowed several times against the bile that kept pressing up into his throat, the smell of blood, alcohol and his own sweat and tears sharp in his senses with a tang he could not quite place. He listened for Yugi's respirations and forced his own to mimic, giving him something on which to re-center himself even as his vision began to focus through the teary haze onto a hunk of triangular, metallic yellow pressed between his abdomen and thighs. With another sharp turn of the ambulance, movement between his ankles brought his attention down to a loop of burnished silver chain skittering across the molded hatching of marine-grade aluminum floor. _Chain?_ Blinking, Honda cleared his sight, squinting again at the angular weight Jonouchi had shoved into his arms even as he felt an extra chill reach out to press into his stomach and hands just then.

_T-the Millennium Puzzle?!_ _Oh, gods . . . Yami . . ._

Honda grabbed the chain and flipped it up over his head. Left arm looping through a rail on the door, he clutched the Puzzle to his chest with his right. _It's gonna be okay, buddy. I promise. We'll make sure Yugi has the best care possible, and you guys are both gonna be fine. Just hang in there, all right? Time for us to take care of you for a change._ He closed his eyes. _Gods, you must feel so alone in there right now. You're not. I swear it – you're not! I'm here for you too, my friend_.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


	3. Chapter 3 Alone

Author's Notes: So . . . off to a pretty intense start, eh? Continued thanks to PharaonicWolf and MyAibou for beta'ing, as well as to my friend Crystal. She and her husband both are retired Navy corpsmen, as well as the fact that Crystal's had a few surgeries throughout her life for various reasons, which means I've had the privilege of some _great_ sources of information for all the medical stuff going on, from both points of view (medical staff and patient).

I have to admit to a small tip of the hat to my friend Isis the Sphinx in this chapter. XDDD Isis, hope you don't mind my using a small detail of interaction from your story. You'll recognize it when you see it. Can't tell you how hard I laughed the first time I read it in "Illusory Love"!

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 3 – Alone

He had no idea how much time had passed, had no way at all to measure it in this place that held him captive even as it gave him the means to exist.

Yami no longer possessed the immediacy of not knowing what had happened, the overriding need to act, the instinct to protect, and it took him what felt like hours before he could force himself to move again. He rolled ever so slowly to his right, pulling knee and elbow under him to work himself into a sort of skewed sitting position, biting back whimpered moans as agony tore through him with the movement. His vision blurred, head swimming so that the room around him, already a conundrum of impossible architecture, rocked and twisted further into a nightmare of visual confusion.

"_Dammit! Pay attention!" "Y-you're hurt pretty bad." "Head wounds bleed an alarming amount even if they're only small cuts." "I'm a trauma nurse with Domino Medical Clinic . . . There's been an accident."_

_There's been an accident . . . _

Yami swallowed another moan as the fog from the agony cleared a fraction at a time. _That nurse had said there was an accident . . . but I heard a gunshot. A firearm going off in the bay area in the middle of a downpour is no accident. Hn . . . unless . . . that wasn't a gun_. He grunted. _What else could it have been?_ To be honest with himself, he had to admit that it might well have been something else, that he really did not know for certain. In fact, there was a lot he did not know of the modern world, his knowledge and understanding largely dependent on what had leaked to him through his bond with Yugi, at least what he himself had not directly experienced or observed in the time he had been active and fully self-aware. A soft chuckle escaped him, cut short by the pain it aggravated, as he recalled the first time he had truly noticed the washing machine in the laundry closet. _"Aibou, it's . . . _growling_ at us . . . "_ He shook his head, both in amusement and to clear it of such frivolous thoughts, refocusing on the present and what he should be doing right now. He needed to do something. Anything.

Anything to keep at bay the questions and fears plaguing him . . .

Sheer, obstinate will got him up to one hand and his knees, his left arm tucking to his side – it would work because _his_ was not broken nor otherwise truly injured in any way, just as the rest of him, his energy pattern, was not – but he just could not force himself to use it with Yugi's pain reflecting so violently through him. As if in slow motion, he inched and pulled himself back to the door of his soul room. He did not bother to try to stand before testing the handle, nor was he surprised when it did not move. He hung his full weight from it, slight though that was, but still it would not budge.

_Aibou . . . _

Yami shifted to put his back to the door, sitting against it, fighting back tears and snarling at himself for such weakness that they should even threaten.

He was vaguely aware of motion, could only guess that Yugi's body was being moved. As he had lain on the floor where he landed – too stunned by pain and the shock of the violent dispossession to move right away – he had felt a tightening around his left arm, guessing it to be Honda's tourniquet, followed by a pressure that wrapped his throat. Even knowing what that was, he could not help a jolt of alarm, if only because he was powerless to resist what was being done had he wanted or needed to. After that, he had felt himself lifted and lowered a few times. He sensed, too, Jonouchi's presence, an almost tangible pall of close friendship, fear, and protectiveness filling his soul room, and could only guess his fellow Duelist to be in possession of the Puzzle. That knowledge had gone a long way in comforting the imprisoned spirit. He had felt Jonouchi's presence so immediately from in here only twice before – once when Jonouchi's consciousness finally shook free of a brutal mental slavery only for him to find the Millennium Puzzle in his care to keep it from being lost at the bottom of Domino Harbor . . . and once before that, when Yugi had been trapped in that blazing fire and Jonouchi needed a way to free the Puzzle's chain so that he could evacuate his friend, his "brother." Then, as now, Yami was eternally grateful for Jonouchi – indeed, for all of Yugi's friends, those whom his partner loved as he did his own blood family.

Yami dropped his head back against the door, ignoring the pain of the contact. How he wished he could escape this prison and deal with the situation! If not to help in the care, then at least to find the perpetrator who had harmed his _aibou_ and make him pay, as once he – ancient spirit of vengeance that he was – had done so many times in his none-too-distant past.

_There's been an accident . . . _

Yami groaned. He could not. It went beyond the reality that Yami needed Yugi to be able to escape, that physical contact between the Puzzle and his Fate-chosen partner was the only key to unlock that door. It was the fact that there existed no basis for retribution, no matter how much it would make him feel better for it to be otherwise. He had seen the truth in Honda's eyes – there was no enemy to fight this time, no one to blame, no one to make pay to right this wrong to his _aibou_ and himself. Were he even to try, Yami already knew that the Shadows would turn on him, that he would be the one ultimately punished for a wrong committed against another. He swallowed, the very thought sending a cold shiver down his spine. No . . . no, he of all people knew better than to tempt that fate.

Besides, it would upset Yugi to know he had done such a thing, and for Yami to see any kind of hurt or disappointment in his _aibou_'s eyes would be far worse than anything even the Shadows could do to him in punishment.

Still, he hated this feeling of helplessness, of inability. He pulled a deep breath, pushing the fingers of his good hand through thick, red-black locks even as he winced at the multiple sites of pain the gesture excited. He was trapped in here because his friends had agreed that the Puzzle had to be removed in order to be able to do other things to properly stabilize Yugi. He would just have to trust them to know what was best, to care for Yugi and protect them both. _Hn, now that's a turnaround_. Was it not always he – the Duelist, the Power, the center of attention wanted or not – who did the protecting and the resolving of situations? It was his purpose after all, was it not? His reason for being here, so far out of his original place and time?

He bent forward, resting his head on his knees, good arm wrapping his shins. Whatever his overall purpose, he could not fulfill it from in here, and he could not escape this Escher-ian prison without Yugi, or at the very least not without the reunion of the Puzzle and Yugi's body. If they were headed for a hospital – and from the injuries the body must have sustained to wrack Yami with the agony he now suffered, he could only pray that they were – then the Puzzle would likely be kept from Yugi while the medical staff did whatever it was that they needed to do. Yami could not fault them for that, but the knowledge irritated and worried him all the same.

And there was not a damned thing he could do about it.

Couchant in the dark, chill stillness, eyes closed, Yami registered but did not react when he felt the motion of the body change. He recognized the sensation of being in a car or bus. _An ambulance, perhaps?_ Again, Yami could only pray as much. It meant that professionals with proper equipment finally were in charge of Yugi's care. Another sensation had changed as well: Jonouchi's presence no longer permeated the soul room. A different one had replaced it, but one almost equally familiar to him. He reached out for it, tendrils of chill Shadow curling up staircases and through doorways, seeking a taste of the essence by which to identify it. The presence responded – subconsciously, Yami guessed. Without a doubt, the impression of arms wrapping him in comfort and protection flowed back to him through the Shadows. As with Jonouchi, he sensed the other more through images and memories than concrete knowledge: a watchdog, loyal and alert . . . a soldier . . . a powerful swamp ogre . . . a pillar, supporting and strengthening him . . .

_Honda. It has to be._

Yami grinned, a pain-weary but heartfelt expression. Like the door behind him, he could feel the support of the staunch friend who had his back no matter what. It might be Jonouchi who stood most directly at his and Yugi's side in times of need but, as with Anzu whose unwavering faith and love for her friends provided a constant backbone of confidence to their little company, Honda had his place as the group's backup, operating from the sidelines in a capacity just as important as anything happening in the foreground. It struck Yami just then that Honda had never actually handled the Millennium Puzzle before, and he found himself almost sad for that. Yami needed Yugi, but he longed for the presence, love, and acceptance of Yugi's friends as well, and too often could not be sure of having those, not for himself as an individual apart from his vessel and beloved partner.

The spirit hunkered further down. For now, there was nothing he could do but wait . . .

Wait . . . and wrap himself in the presence and care of his friends, and remind himself that he was not as alone as he felt.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


	4. Chapter 4 Elusion

Author's Note: When reality eludes us, all we are left with is skewed illusion.

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 4 – Elusion

A light shot into the darkness, illuminating it for just an instant. No, not just illuminating . . . _piercing_ it with a lancing pain across his mind. But . . . only in one eye, he realized. _Hn, how does that work?_ He had neither the time nor, truly, the presence of mind to contemplate that improbability before the lancing light was back, piercing his other eye for the span of a heartbeat, leaving behind a persistent headache.

_Ow-w-w . . . _

He floated in a fluid darkness, a gentle vibration massaging him. He thought he could hear voices and other background noise, but he ignored them, content to stay in the comfortable blackness that embraced him, protected him . . . until something stung the back of his hand.

_Oww!!!_

A sensation of alarming _cold_ flowed up his right arm, and he thought something must have bitten him, its venom running through his veins. _A spider, perhaps? No, must have been that scorpion. Wait . . . what scorpion? Ah! T-the Poison Man! . . . No . . . couldn't be. Scorpion bit him, not me. Or rather not Not-Me . . ._ No, that did not make any sense, either. How could he not be him? He thought he should know, but he could not remember, so he decided not to worry about it. He had gotten his shoes back, and that was all that mattered. Only . . . one had a hole in it. And they were not his shoes.

He groaned, his headache worsening. _Never mind_.

He tried to snuggle back down into his warm, embracing darkness, but he had noticed a rhythmic pain in his left arm that throbbed with the beating of his heart. The timing was a little off, though, a second or two behind. He frowned. Why was his – no, never mind that. _How_ was his arm keeping time with his heartbeat?

There were the sounds, too, distant and muffled. The darkness held his head cradled in the crook of an arm, muffling his hearing. He thought he heard a siren wailing somewhere. Had someone been hurt? He could not quite bring himself to move, or else he would clap his hands for the gods' attention. He always offered a prayer for the health and safety of those involved whenever a fire truck or an ambulance went by.

He did manage to get his eyes open just a little, allowing mere slits of light to pierce the darkness once more. The brightness was a little more tolerable this time, but not by much. Still, his vision focused adequately enough for him to make out a clear plastic dome very close to him, almost on top of him. He watched in fascination as the interior filled and cleared of a gentle, swirling mist. He liked it. It was like a snow globe only with smoke. A new type of incense burner, perhaps? He would have to be sure to get one. With sandalwood. He liked the smell of sandalwood. So had his father.

He wished the beeping would stop, though. It was slow and steady and threatening to make him crazy, like an audial Chinese water torture. _Oh, well. Ignore it. Focus on something else_.

Like the warmth trickling down the side of his face. Rain, maybe? It had been raining. The warm showers of the _tsuyu_ rainy season had just begun. They started a few weeks after his birthday and lasted until sometime in September usually. But he felt cool, not warm, with an airflow down the front of his body. That was odd. Well, they had been in the bay area. Had they gone to the beach? That would explain it. The bright sun breaking through the clouds, and he on his back in the sand with the breeze brushing its gentle fingers over him.

The gritty feeling was only in his shoulder, though. Had he scraped it, perhaps? _Hn. That would just be my luck, now wouldn't it? Fell on the rocks of the jetty. Must have banged my head, too. Oh, well. Nothing that won't heal. They'd be insisting I go to the doctor or something if I'd really hurt myself_. He grinned. They were overprotective sometimes, but it was only because they cared so much, and he loved them dearly.

Another sensation had been pounding dully at the back of his mind, though, and he could not longer ignore it, even if he still could not make any sense of it. It was a feeling of wrong, of . . . of something missing, something really important . . . but what?!

A sudden jarring wracked him just then, driving the Important Wrong from his mind. He was moving, and fast! And the noise level around him had increased by multiples. A series of lights flitted by overhead. Or maybe it was a strobe light of some kind. Beeping, banging, talking, yelling . . . Oh, of course! The amusement park! Yes, they had been talking about going. The park had been open since Golden Week, but they had not made it over there yet. He remembered the day he had taken Anzu. That terrorist "card bomber" still had been at large. The bomber had been at the park that same day, in fact. The authorities caught the guy there, too. He wished he had been present to see it. He could not remember exactly where he had been at the time. Elsewhere. He made a note to ask Anzu to go on the ferris wheel with him next, once he was off the roller coaster. He groaned. Jonouchi and Honda must have convinced him to ride with them after all. It was not that he did not like the coaster itself. It was just that he was terrified of heights. Except it was not _him_ who was acrophobic. Wait . . . ??

He heard a child's wailing sobs break through the cacophony of noises, and thought she must have dropped her ice cream or failed to win a boardwalk game. _No . . . no, that's a pretty heartbroken sound. Maybe she's lost. Gods, how terrible. I hope she finds her parents pretty quickly. I'll help her as soon as this ride is over_.

He prayed that was soon. He was awfully tired. And he did not feel well. He hurt. A lot. It had been a long day. He whimpered at the rickety rushing of the cart under him, wincing at the shrieks of a squeaky wheel. _No, not a roller-coaster, a tilt-a-whirl_. It had to be. That would explain the dizzying, flying sensation as well. Normally, he liked the tilt-a-whirl, but he had been on for too long, and he was tired. It was time to get off.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!

As was pointed out . . . Japan does not have a monsoon season (now corrected to the line about the _tsuyu_). Heh, teaches me to trust that my friends who lived over there were calling the type of weather by the right name. ((sweatdrop)) Funny thing is, I looked it up to double-check the timeframe, and I think the website I looked at called it that too, which I had thought was odd. That or I just /really/ wasn't paying attention, but I really do think I would have noticed. However, looking up again after "The Fanart Person" pointed it out (and, yes, I know who you are ), the websites I went to did /not/ call it "monsoon." ((shrug)) So, Lesson: always double-check your sources thoroughly, even when it's from someone who knows what they're talking about . . . but may not be /naming/ it quite right. LOL


	5. Chapter 5 Disassociation

Author's Note: If you've read "Big Brother" by one of my AWESOME betas, MyAibou, you'll see the heavy influence of that fic on this chapter. And if you haven't, YOU MUST!!! XDDD Seriously, though, it's an _awesome_ Jonouchi story . . . actually, it's Jonouchi _and_ Shizuka's story, and MyAibou captures their relationship and their background gorgeously, taking the readers from Shizuka's birth through all the events leading up to canon, _through_ canon to look at a number of scenes in wonderfully refreshing ways, and into a post-canon near-future I can _totally_ see for everyone.

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 5 – Disassociation

_Rain. RainrainrainrainfreakingRAIN!_

Jonouchi shook soggy blond bangs from his eyes, mentally grumping at the pouring wet. It was better than thinking about what was really upsetting him.

Sky, buildings, people and pavement – all had been washed out in his sight by the muting grey of the rain that further dulled his already shell-shocked mind as he watched the ambulance carry away one of the few people who meant the most to him in all the world.

Well, actually . . . three people. Honda was in that ambulance, too. And Yami. _Oh, gods . ._ . Jonouchi had nearly kept the Millennium Puzzle, wanting to hold onto it – vicariously to hold onto Yugi – but somehow that had felt wrong. He could not bring himself to separate Yugi and Yami any more than he knew they already were, and so he had charged the care of both their friends to his childhood buddy, the "brother" who had watched his back since middle school. Yugi had _changed_ Jonouchi the most, but Honda had _supported_ him the longest, and now that guard-dog support was needed elsewhere. _You're in good hands, Yug. Yami. Both of ya. I promise_.

Movement to his right caught his attention, and he turned in time to see Anzu stoop, reaching for something on the ground. She stood again, a small square of bean-filled linen in her hand, bright yellow-and-purple eyes beaming up out of a ball of chocolate fluff. Kuriboh. Jonouchi shook his head. _It would be mass of little you's ta cushion Yugi so he doesn't get more hurt, huh? It's what you're best at, ain't it, buddy?_

"J-jonouchi . . . "

Anzu's tone wrenched at Jonouchi's heart. He shook his head. "He's gonna be fine. You'll see." Anzu clutched the soaked sack to her chest and looked up, big azure eyes gazing at him. _No. No, Anzu, please. Don't do this to me! You're supposed ta be the one insisting it's all gonna be okay! C'mon . ._ . Swallowing, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. She collapsed against his chest, face tucking into his shoulder, her hands with the beanbag caught between them. He felt her shudder as the tears began to fall at last, rubbing circles on her back as he fought down his own grief.

"I'm sorry . . . I'm really sorry . . . "

Jonouchi glared over Anzu's head at Tanaka. "I'll show you 'sorry' if you don't shut up!"

Tanaka flinched back from him, heel going off the sidewalk into grass. His foot slid out from under him, and he went down, gangly arms and legs flailing every which way. "Owowoww . . . " He gazed up, a sheepish look in the hazel eyes peering from behind unruly black bangs, water dripping off his nose.

Kiyoda rolled her eyes and pulled Tanaka to his feet. "Come on. I'll take you guys to the hospital."

"Ah . . . y-you guys go on ahead," Tanaka murmured, eyes finding the discarded surfboard. "Promised I'd give this back."

"Right," Jonouchi grunted. "Like they're actually gonna want it back now."

Tanaka only shrugged, not meeting Jonouchi's gaze as he bent to gather the length of molded fiberglass into his arms.

"He's right, Jou-kun. That shop owner said he wanted it returned." Anzu's voice sounded a little hollow as she pushed back from him, brushing away tears that disappeared in the rain anyway. She turned to Tanaka with a glare of her own, the one usually reserved for when Jonouchi and Honda were being jerks. "You're not going anywhere, though, until you give us your contact information."

Tanaka blinked at her. "I . . . I don't have a pen or paper on me, though. Chh, even if I did, they'd be soaked. I have a notebook back in my car . . . "

"No. We gotta get to the hospital. Now!"

Kiyoda laid a restraining hand on Jonouchi's arm, then turned to Tanaka. "What about forms of ID? Driver's license – "

"Yeah, you're not gonna need _that_ anymore any time soon."

"Jonouchi!"

" – or school ID?" Kiyoda finished, ignoring the outbursts.

Tanaka gazed back and forth among them, then sighed, reaching for a back pocket. "Here." He tossed his wallet at Jonouchi. "You're welcome to anything in there, since your . . . brother's gonna be getting it all anyway." The resigned, almost hopeless tone in his voice tugged a little at Jonouchi's heart . . . but only a little, the wail of the siren still barely audible in the distance.

The rain had let up some, but suddenly it began falling again with a vengeance even as a flash of light brightened the ceiling of clouds overhead. Jonouchi hunched his shoulders with a groan.

"Here." Kiyoda snatched the wallet from Jonouchi's grasp and handed it back to Tanaka. "Come on." Hooking one arm through Tanaka's and the other through Anzu's, she started down the street once more. Jonouchi shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged after them.

He blinked in confusion as they stopped at a bakery within sight of the clinic and Kiyoda ducked inside. Jonouchi followed. He grinned in spite of himself as he watched the interactions and realized that the nurse was probably a regular customer. He had learned from a childhood spent in doctor's offices with his sister that hospitals and other medical facilities ran on caffeine and sugar. Lots of it.

A few children buying sweets grinned and waved hello to the woman as she approached. She motioned two of them over, then crouched to whisper in their ears. Both got excited, nodding and promising to do everything she said. She placed a handful of coins into each one's possession, then scribbled quick directions on the back of a sales slip from the baker. The boys bolted from the shop, pausing only long enough to take the surfboard from Tanaka with hasty apologies and promises to take care of the errand for him, then disappeared down the street. The quartet continued on its way.

By the time they reached the clinic itself, a swift breeze had picked up. The rain alone was not so bad, but the wind chilled the small group to the bone. They were soaked, sore, tired, and hungry as Kiyoda led the three teens through the double doors and into the main lobby, veering left once they were inside.

Anzu frowned. "Where are we going? Emergency's that way." She pointed to the right, and Jonouchi remembered that she would indeed know. Her father had suffered a heart attack almost a year ago and had to be rushed to the hospital from his office. His wife and children – Anzu had an older and younger brother – had been called from work and school to come see him.

Kiyoda nodded without breaking stride. "Yes, it is, but we're going to the cafeteria first."

"Eh?! Why's that?" Not that Jonouchi had any argument with the thought of food under most circumstances, but even he knew when to give it second-place in importance. When the nurse explained, however, he realized that she was right.

"You're all chilled, possibly dehydrated, and I'd be surprised if you're not in mild shock. We're going to get warmth and food in you to keep your blood sugars up so that you don't drop on me." The tone of her voice left no room for argument, but the wink she threw them over her shoulder helped to soften the severity.

Jonouchi reeled back a bit as they entered the cafeteria. He had forgotten the main lobby and the hallways to get here, but he could not forget this place, and it had nothing to do with food.

Anzu noticed his discomfort as Kiyoda left them at a table while she continued on to a bank of vending machines. "What is it, Jonouchi?"

Jonouchi glanced around. It was a large room, to be sure, but still much smaller than he remembered it. _Funny how that works, eh?_ he grunted at himself. He shook his head, refusing to let past memories interfere with the present. Still, his voice broke a little more than he liked as he answered. "Used to come here a lot as a kid, with Ma an' Shizuka. After an appointment, Ma'd bring us here an' we'd sit at a table in that corner over there until it was time to go back an' get the results from the morning's tests."

"Is that your sister? Was . . . was she sick?"

Jonouchi glared at Tanaka for a moment. It was none of his business – and from the expression in his eyes, Tanaka knew it too – but Jonouchi had been the one to choose to answer in front of him . . . and conversation helped keep their minds off of other things. He nodded. "Kinda, yeah. Degenerative eye condition."

"Oh. So, what changed?" Tanaka flinched. "I'm sorry. I know I probably shouldn't be asking . . . "

Jonouchi did not realize he was holding his breath while he decided how to respond until he let it out in a _whoof_. With it went some of his lingering anger at the guy. Tanaka actually seemed like a likeable young man, if Jonouchi could just get past the knowledge that it was his car that had nearly killed one – no, two! – of his best friends, and might still have . . .

He shook his head with a low growl, clearing that line of thought from his mind, and Tanaka cringed further back. "S-s-sorry . . . m-maybe I should just . . . " His eyes found Kiyoda, and he stood.

Jonouchi grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. "Sit. S'not you. Just got a lot on my mind, all right?" He let go, pulling another deep breath. "And don't worry about askin'. It's a lotta old news anyway." He glanced at Anzu, who gave him an encouraging grin and nod, and he continued. "What changed? Hn. Everything. I was . . . I was nine when Ma – " His voice completely failed him without warning.

_Took my little sister and ran? Ditched me to a drunken father?_ No matter how many times he told himself that he was over it, no matter how much he realized that it was for the best for everyone but him – and _he_ did not matter, so long as his little sister was safe – no matter how he rationalized it and understood why it had to happen the way it did, he could not deny in his heart that it still hurt, even seven years later.

Anzu's voice was soft as she put a supportive hand on his arm. "Jou-kun . . . "

Jonouchi shook his head. "I'm okay, Anzu." He looked at Tanaka. "Our parents divorced when I was nine. I stayed here with Dad while Ma and Shizuka moved to live with our grandparents in Tokyo." There. That was about as neutral as he could think to explain it.

Tanaka nodded with a wan smile, his gaze turning a bit inward. "Yeah, I can understand that. Mine are divorced, too. I was eleven."

_Don't make like you're tryin' to make nice with us!_ Jonouchi unclenched his fists under the table. No, it was not that Tanaka was looking to commiserate or forge an alliance of shared experiences, especially not to lessen what he had done to them and to himself. Jonouchi saw the struggle in the other teenager's eyes as he wrestled back his own storm of reactions to old emotions before looking back up at them with a smile that was almost apologetic. Divorce was still a relatively rare thing in Japan but not completely unheard of, so it was not outside of normal odds for two strangers at a table to be children of divorced parents. _Kinda makes ya wonder what _makes_ a family exactly, huh?_ Jonouchi dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

Kiyoda returned just then, one arm hugging three Pokka canned coffees, a fourth open in her other hand. She slid an unopened can in front of each of them. "Here, guys. Drink."

Jonouchi and Tanaka each took his and opened it with a murmur of thanks. Anzu offered Kiyoda a small grin and shook her head. "Thank you, but . . . "

Kiyoda eyed her. "It's hot, it's sweetened, and it's a stimulant. I insist."

_More like command_, Jonouchi thought, swallowing a snicker as Anzu relented.

Kiyoda kept them there a few minutes longer to finish the coffee as well as a serving each of takoyaki. Normally, Jonouchi loved the baked octopus dumplings, but he found that he had no appetite now as he wondered where Honda was or, more the point, where Yugi was.

They cleaned up and headed back out, but still did not make for the emergency room as Kiyoda stopped them by an elevator. "Now where are we going, Kiyoda-san?" Tanaka wanted to know.

"Up to Ortho."

"Huh? Wait. Isn't that that guy from that Shakespeare guy's play?"

Anzu elbowed Jonouchi. "Ortho, not Othello!"

Tanaka ignored them both, going even paler than he had been. "Y-you mean, as in Orthopedics?"

Kiyoda nodded. "Mutou-kun shouldn't still be in Emergency. Or if he is, he won't be for long. They'll be taking him up there, stat."

The doors of the elevator slid open just then, and the foursome filed in, each lost in thought. Jonouchi settled against a corner, staring at the ceiling. He had heard the term "orthopedics," of course, though he did not know what it was. Nor, he feared, did he really want to.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


	6. Chapter 6 By Blood

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 6 – By Blood

_Name . . . Mutou Yugi. Date of birth . . . um . . . June Fourth . . . damn, dunno what year. Wait, duh – that's right. He's the same age as me, just two months younger. Okay, then so . . . Blood type . . . um, blood type . . . crap! Yugi, what's your blood type?_

"Careful, bro. You'll hurt yourself thinkin' so hard."

Honda jumped at the voice just off his left shoulder, spinning to meet eyes with Jonouchi.

"How is he?" Anzu lost no time getting to the point.

Honda's gaze found the hall and the double-doors behind which Yugi should have been taken some twenty minutes ago. One hand moved subconsciously to grip the Puzzle hanging on its chain around his neck where it did _not_ belong. "No idea. Too soon to tell. I heard one of the orderlies comment that his breathing and heart rate are 'within tolerance,' whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. He should be in surgery by now."

"S-surgery?" Jonouchi and Anzu echoed in unison, eyes popping wide with fear.

Honda waved at them with one hand, the other still full of clipboard with the copious paperwork he had been handed to fill out. "No, no, it's not what you think. He's probably fine. That compound fracture alone is reason enough for emergency surgery, but otherwise I'll bet he's okay." _At least . . . he'd better be!_ It was then he realized that they were short two people. "Hey, where's the nurse and that Tanaka guy?"

Jonouchi thumbed over his shoulder to the nurse's station at the other end of the waiting room, and Honda spotted the pair leaning on the counter. "Took Tanaka to get his information added to Yug's patient file."

Honda nodded. He had to admit – he felt kind of sorry for Tanaka. None of them were old enough to have gone through the course themselves yet – legal driving age was eighteen – but everyone knew about some of the things that were pounded into the head of every new driver, a responsibility every driver accepted when he or she got a license. If a driver injured another person, regardless of how or why, that driver was responsible for one-hundred-percent of that person's medical expenses, whether or not he could afford it. It was up to him to _find_ a way, no matter how long it took to pay it off. Honda did not envy Tanaka's position right now. From the beat-up car he drove, it was evident that he did not have a lot of money, and even less if the sticker reading "Sengoku University" in the back window was his as well. Honda guessed he would have to give up his schooling to pay for Yugi's medical expenses. Such was the reality of having a driver's license in Japan.

"You ever hear back from your sis?" Jonouchi wanted to know.

Honda nodded, pulling the cell phone from his pocket to return to Anzu. "She called about five, ten minutes ago. She'd gotten a hold of Mutou-Grandfather, who in turned called Mi – !" He paused, glancing in the direction of the nurse's station. If he were going to pull this off, he needed to start right now. "Mom. Called Mom. She's on her way right now, and she only works a few minutes from here. Sachiko's bringing Grandfather." Jonouchi and Anzu gave him odd looks at some of his word choices but did not have the chance to question him.

"Jou-kun, Anzu, Honda-kun!"

The three teens turned in unison at the familiar voice, spotting a woman with short, deep auburn hair, waving as she hurried to them, dark blue eyes wide with fear and worry.

"MOM!"

Jonouchi and Anzu blinked, exchanging startled looks as Honda threw his arms around Mutou Michiko.

Michiko caught him, her arms wrapping him out of reflex. "H-honda-kun?"

"Play along, okay?" Honda hissed in her ear. "I'll explain later. I promise."

Michiko pushed him back just far enough to meet his eye, her own stern with rising anger, though to her credit she kept her voice to a bare whisper as well. "Honda-kun, if this is all some kind of – " Her gaze went down to the Millennium Puzzle hanging against his chest for just a split second before locking with his eyes again.

Damn, he was going to have to explain _now_. Pulling her back into his arms with an audible choke – one that, truthfully, was not a complete act – he breathed the explanation into her ear. "ICU, Intensive Care Unit . . . family members only! I'm your son, too, by a different father than Yugi, hence the different family name. Jonouchi's in the process of adoption. Anzu's a cousin. Please! They won't let us in to see him later otherwise!" This time, it was he to push her back enough to meet her eye, the expression in his own silently begging her to agree.

He watched her study him for a long, long moment. It was strange, he realized. He knew her and yet did not. He, Jonouchi, and Anzu had spent countless hours hanging out at the Mutou residence, and Michiko always made or bought treats for them even when she had worked a long day. She always had a smile and a friendly greeting for them – one did not have to wonder where her son got his loving and ever-positive nature. Honda knew his close friend's parent if only by face, name, and some of her habits . . . but he did not know the woman herself, did not know her likes or dislikes, her dreams, her cares. She smelled faintly of apples, which Honda guessed to be her shampoo. He liked it. It was a "mom" smell, like his own mother had a distinctive scent he had always loved since he was little.

At length, she gave him a small grin, cupping his cheek in one hand as tears came to her eyes. "Hiroto . . . "

He grinned back, tears threatening in his own as well. A mother called her son by personal name.

8 8 8 8 8

Anzu stood back a bit, hearing – as she was sure Jonouchi did – the whispered explanation. She glanced sidelong at Jonouchi, wondering how he would feel about calling someone "mother," especially after the conversation in the cafeteria. It struck her how little she really knew of Jonouchi's past.

She had known that her friend's parents were divorced since the day they found out that Jonouchi had been sucked back into his old street gang, submitting to that Hirutani guy to protect Yugi and the rest of their classmates from retaliation by the gang. When Jonouchi failed to show up to school for the first time that she or Yugi could remember, Honda had agreed to take them to Jonouchi's apartment after school to check on him. Even though he and Jonouchi had known each other since middle school, Honda admitted that he had only been over the apartment once before – and they found out why. Honda knocked and called a "hello," but there had been no answer, and the door was unlocked. Anzu and Yugi peeked over his shoulder and under his arm as he cracked the door open only to glimpse piles of trash bags and copious beer cans and bottles littering the floor and the visible corner of a dinner table. No sooner had Anzu's mind registered the soles of big, black boots propped on the table than all three were flinching back in shock as the glass of a thrown beer bottle shattered against the other side of the door, alcohol splashing everywhere. A deep, violent voice hollered at them, assuming them to be Jonouchi, cursing and asking where he'd been the past two days. The trio had beaten a hasty retreat, and Honda confirmed that the man was Jonouchi-senior, their friend's father and the reason they were never invited over. Soon after, Hirutani's hideout was finally found, though it had been Yugi running off alone to do so. _No_, she had to correct herself, _it was probably Yami, though Yugi would have supported him, even though neither was fully aware of the other that early on_. That awareness had come later. In the meantime, the foursome were so glad to be back together and safe that no one brought up Jonouchi's father, though all three found themselves inviting Jonouchi to their houses more often or out other places, anything to keep him from home as much as possible.

More often than not, they found themselves at the Mutou residence, Michiko becoming a sort of second mother to them all.

The thoughts went through Anzu's mind in the span of a few heartbeats as she watched Michiko release Honda to pull Jonouchi into an embrace, who looked stiff in spite of himself but did not resist. Anzu felt tears well up in her eyes all over again as Michiko then turned to her. "Aunt Michiko!" She threw her arms around the woman with a sob, Michiko hugging back tightly, and suddenly it did not matter that there was no real legal relation between them. Experience, love, and a shared crisis bound them more tightly than blood ever could.

8 8 8 8 8

Jonouchi tried not to pull back too quickly from Michiko's embrace, tried not to glare at Honda for the role the other had given him. He understood it – as Honda had said, it would allow Jonouchi to be with Yugi later, after the surgery when he was recovering in some resting room somewhere. Still, he could not help a nagging resentment. He had had enough experiences with one mother, thank you very much. Battle City had only been a few weeks ago, and Shizuka's eye operation just prior to that. The day of the operation was the first time Jonouchi had seen his mother since she drove off in a car without warning, little Shizuka pressed to the back window and sobbing for her big brother. The day of the surgery had been unbearably difficult for a number of reasons, one of which having been to face his mother again. She had been cool and polite, if a little awkward, and there had been no affection whatsoever. One would never have known that they were related at all, just two strangers meeting outside of a hospital room. And that was exactly what she was to him, a stranger. A stranger that he had resented even as he was glad she had protected his little sister, though at the cost of her own son.

No. No, he was not her son, and she was not his mother. He did not have a mother, nor did he need one. Nor a father. He had himself, and he had his friends. They were all he could ask for. They were actually there for him when he was in need, just as he was there for them, would readily give his life for any one of them. They supported him as no blood relation ever had, besides his little sister. He had no need for parents.

So why did his heart twist when Michiko looked at him like she did, with so much love and acceptance? It was the same unconditional support that her son Yugi had always given him. He watched the woman turn from Anzu to look over the three of them once more.

"S-so, what . . . what happened exactly?"

Jonouchi swallowed, almost wanting not to tell her, to protect her from the horrible truth. He put an arm around her, guiding her to one of the chairs there in the waiting room. "Ah . . . y-you'd better sit down . . . Mom . . . "

At that, Michiko graced him with another of her beautiful smiles even as tears began to threaten once again. She cupped his cheek as she had done to Honda. "Katsuya . . . "

Jonouchi's heart skipped a beat again but, this time, he recognized it as a good thing.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	7. Chapter 7 Vigil

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 7 – Vigil

Kiyoda slowly approached the small gathering in the far corner of the waiting room as the boy Honda was explaining what had been done so far with her patient, Mutou Yugi.

" – blood work, made sure his vitals were stable, and they said they got some x-rays."

"What, they take him outta ER up to an x-ray room first?"

"Not likely, Jonouchi-kun," Kiyoda put in with a smile. "ER uses special, portable units for cases like this." The foursome jumped, turning to her, including the woman who had joined them a few minutes ago. She offered the woman a grin. "Sorry to interrupt. My name is Kiyoda Miriko. I'm a trauma nurse here at the clinic."

"She's the one who was at the toy store and took care of Yugi," Honda explained.

"And us," the girl Anzu added with an appreciative grin, still clutching the all-but-forgotten can of coffee.

The woman stood and gave her a bow. "Thank you so much for your help, Kiyoda-san. I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Mutou Michiko. Yugi is my son."

"Pleased to meet you as well, Mutou-san. Honda-kun here is your son as well, he says?" Kiyoda added conversationally, testing the boy's claim if only for her own curiosity.

Michiko grinned, putting a hand on Honda's shoulder. "Yes, he is. This is Hiroto. And this is my . . . well, _soon_ to be my adopted son, Katsuya, and my niece Anzu."

The three nodded in turn, though Kiyoda could not help noting a flinch of . . . _something_ in Jonouchi's eyes at Michiko's words. Well, it was really none of her business. In a way, she could understand hospital policy concerning the visitation rights of family members over any other visitors of a patient . . . but that did not mean that she wholly agreed with it. She decided that she would not be the one to call them on it, even though she strongly suspected it to be an act. If it were indeed an act, it was one that all of them were willing to coordinate and play, which told her that they must be close indeed. The looks in the three teenagers' eyes from the first meeting were enough for her.

"Where's Tanaka," Anzu asked just then.

"He's in the men's room. He . . . may be in there a while." Kiyoda felt for the kid, whose face had gone more and more pale as she and Sawamura, the nurse behind the desk, explained to him what the immediate and long-term future might look like, for Mutou and for him.

Honda pushed his fingers through close-cut brunet hair. "Yeah . . . can't say I blame him."

"I can," Jonouchi huffed in a low voice, but he relented at an elbow from Anzu. Kiyoda grinned in spite of herself.

Michiko seemed very carefully not to react to any of that, refocusing the conversation to her critically-injured son. She glanced between Honda and Kiyoda as she prompted, "So, they took x-rays and blood for testing . . . "

Honda nodded. "The orderly said they were already moving him to Ortho, led me up here, and dropped me off in the waiting room here with this fill-in-the-blank novel." He waved the clipboard in his hand.

"Oh? Let me see that." Michiko took the paperwork from him, flipping through the pages without really seeming to see them.

Just then, another pair of people walked into the room, a young woman with long hair a bit lighter brown than Honda's and an older gentleman of extraordinarily short stature, possibly even shorter than Kiyoda's patient. All three teens burst out with cries of "Grandfather!" at the sight of him and swarmed the dwarfish man. The young woman with him stepped back for a moment before hooking Honda by the arm, presumably to get the story from him once more.

Michiko, staring at the pile of paperwork in a bit of a daze, took another moment to notice the newcomers' arrival, but then a choked "Dad!" escaped her, and she slipped to her knees. The new woman – Kiyoda thought she caught the name "Sachiko" – snatched the clipboard as the old man caught Michiko, gathering her close. From another direction, Tanaka appeared, starting to enter the waiting area only to spot the enlarged group, go pale again, and begin to withdraw, but Jonouchi caught him and dragged him into the space among the others before he could escape.

Kiyoda decided it was time to make her own escape. She had a patient to see to.

She nodded at Nurse Sawamura as she pushed her way through the double doors and into the Ortho wing. The department was not her regular one, but she knew its labyrinth of halls and surgical suites as well as she did Emergency, having spent much of her internship here. She stopped by a changing room to borrow a set of disposable, over-clothing scrubs and slippers to cover her shoes. Her friend Ohirime, an anthroscopic surgeon, was on vacation that week, she remembered, so the locker was available and she knew the combination. She locked up her purse and pulled her name badge from her skirt pocket to clip on the front of the scrubs. From there, she headed down the hall past a set of bathrooms to a break room. She was going to need some coffee. No . . . she was going to need a lot of coffee.

Dr. Watanabe, a musculoskeletal oncologist, looked up from his donut and comic book. "Kiyoda-chan?" A smile crinkled the older man's face. "Did they rope you back up here after all?"

Kiyoda shook her head with a laugh. "Nah, you know I'm not into woodshop."

"Heh, our loss," the elder man replied with a chuckle as Kiyoda pulled the largest mug she could find from the cupboard and filled it from the coffee pot on the counter. "So, what _are_ you doing here, if I may ask? You look like you weren't even scheduled to work today." He eyed the scrubs as if assessing the street clothes beneath them.

Kiyoda shrugged. "I wasn't, but . . . duty calls, you know?" She found powdered creamer and packets of sugar in the drawers, just as they had always been. Some things never changed. "I was at a toy store to get a gift for my sister's youngest for his birthday this weekend when a car accident put a pedestrian through the display window." She shook her head. "From what his friends tell me, he's a teenager, though you coulda fooled me." _So young, in either case . ._

Watanabe clucked his tongue. "Yeah, I think I saw them bring the kid up from Emergency about thirty minutes ago. He looked to be in a pretty fine mess, but I'm sure he'll pull through. I think Toriyama's leading his team."

Kiyoda nodded. Mutou was in good hands if his anesthesiologist was Toriyama. Still . . . "Do you know what room they're in?"

"I think they're in A-6, though you'd want to double-check that with Masuti."

"Kid's in pretty bad shape. They'll need that or G-7 for enough room to get the whole team in. He'll need some serious debridement, arthroscopic surgery – in at least three places I can think of – bone traction, braces, and some arterial reconstruction. And that's just what I can think of off the top of my head."

Watanabe shook his head sadly. "Sounds like they'll be at it for six or seven hours, at least." He eyed her mug. "And you're gonna go stand watch or something?"

Kiyoda grinned almost sheepishly. Her old mentor knew her too well. "Or something. I'll talk to you later. Wouldn't wanna keep you from your Spider-Man-kun, eh?" She nodded with her chin at the doctor's American comic book.

Watanabe laughed. "What can I say? I need my monthly fix." His look turned sober as she crossed back towards the door. "Say a few prayers for that kid for me, will you?"

"As I do all my patients, Doctor. I'll talk to you later."

Mug in hand, Kiyoda made her way down the hall, around a corner, and across another corridor. She passed Operation Suite A-6, instead letting herself into the next room. This one, like so many in which she had spent large parts of her internship, was an observation room, with a large, one-way window filling most of the wall adjacent to the surgery suite. There was a young and rather tired-looking intern in the room already, a boy of probably twenty-three or twenty-four years. He looked up from his textbook and notes as she entered and nodded a greeting. Neither said a word, and she crossed to settle herself in a corner by the window, where she could see the most of the next room, mug cradled in both hands against her chest.

_Not far off the mark at all to liken orthopedic surgery to woodshop_, she mused as she eyed the multitude of instruments laid carefully on the trays among the doctors and nurses. Osteotomes, bone curettes, mallets and chisels, periosteal raspatories that looked like rough-grating wood files, bone clamps, forceps for _cutting_ bone . . . Kiyoda had never had orthopedic surgery, but one thing she had heard universally was that anyone who had more than a minimally-invasive arthroscopy –a minute endoscope plus far-smaller-than-traditional surgical instruments – woke up from their procedure feeling like the doctors had beaten them with sledgehammers. Which was not far from the truth in some cases.

Unfortunately, Mutou Yugi was likely to be one of them.

At the head of the operation stood Toriyama, monitoring the boy's anesthesia and overseeing the other doctors. The team had been forced to bring in a special surgical table that could be raised in sections and have pieces removed. Mutou had been strapped to the table, his head immobilized in a Halo unit, then sat up, with most of the panels under the right half of his torso from neck to low hip removed so the general surgeon could perform debridement of the glass from his skin and muscle tissue. One orthopedic surgeon and his assistants worked on Mutou's lower leg, the flesh peeled back along the top from just above the knee to halfway down his shin so they could repair the damage to the fragile tib-fib bones. Kiyoda shook her head at that, thinking that he had a long road to recovery if he planned to walk again. As a general rule, injuries to the lower leg did not heal well due to low circulation. There were things that could be done, of course – small pins to hold the bones together internally, an Ilizarov apparatus and magnets to work from the outside for stabilization and to promote circulation – but he would still have to be very careful.

The most serious and delicate work, however, was that being done on the boy's arm. The limb had been stretched out and strapped to another support, the flesh and muscle along the outside laid open from shoulder to down past his elbow. Mutou's friend Honda had been right about the broken brachial artery, which a team of microsurgeons was now busy repairing. They had their work cut out for them before they could even begin to worry about the shattered bone.

Kiyoda studied the small teen laying on the propped-up table with so many people working around him, people whose faces he would likely never see. But it wasn't for the sake of praise that people in the medical field did what they did. It was the satisfaction of knowing they had saved one more precious life . . . and from the group out in the waiting room, Kiyoda knew that this was a life not only precious but dearly loved. And she would see that young and treasured life returned to them.

She hunkered further into the corner, bracing herself as comfortably as she could, preparing for her long vigil. A young man named Mutou Yugi was alone in a room full of strangers doing all kinds of things to him, things that – thankfully – his anesthetized mind and body could not begin to feel, let alone fathom. But he was not completely alone.

_I'm here, Yugi-kun. I'm not going to leave you. You'll see your mother and grandfather and brothers and everyone again soon. I promise. Just hang in there, squirt. You're going to be fine.

* * *

_

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8 A Cry for Help

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 8 – A Cry for Help

Yami lay tightly curled against the door, trying to swallow down the pitiful whimpers, but they kept escaping in spite of his most stubborn efforts. He had never been in so much pain his . . . well, "life." In all his memory, at any rate. It was even worse than what he had felt before. At least before, the agony had been static. Now . . . things were _moving_ over and inside of him, or being pulled out, through muscle, bone and connective tissue alike.

He writhed, unable to keep still as fire seared him from his back and head and especially from the inside out of his left leg and arm. _Oh, gods, make it STOP!!_ The battle against his own sobs of agony and fear was a losing one – the agony from his _aibou_'s body and whatever it was being done to it . . . and the terror he found locking his mind at his own complete inability to do anything about it. He had thought he felt helpless before, but this . . . this _torture!_ He feared it was beyond anything he could ever hope to bear.

_H-help . . . _

It was a pitiable whimper of a cry, and not one that anyone would hear anyway, but it fought its way up from the depths of his soul all the same, pleading to be heard, to be heeded.

_S-stop . . . please . . . _

It had to be Yugi's surgery he was feeling. He prayed with everything he was that his _aibou_ was not suffering this way as well, locked away in his own soul room by the effects of the anesthesia. Yami thought that he knew, vaguely – from somewhere in his _aibou_'s general understanding of "what could sometimes happen" – that someone under anesthesia could be paralyzed but not necessarily incognizant of what was being done to their body . . . knowing and feeling everything that was happening, and powerless to stop it.

Just as he was right now.

Yami bucked and squirmed as if by continual movement he could somehow make the agony more tolerable. He could not, but neither could he force himself to remain still, no matter how hard he fought to force his mind and . . . well, "body" to calm and try to accept, shift, relax, _deal_.

And he knew that some surgeries could last hours. _Oh, gods . . ._ Another choked sob tore from his pseudo-parched throat.

_M-MERCY!!!_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A lone figure strode through the crowds of the boardwalk along the bay, unconcerned with the drizzle that had dampened his hair. His hair had not even drooped at all, but remained as fluffy and thick as always.

He was not sure if he was glad for that . . . or just mildly disturbed.

He paused to comb the fingers of one hand through his snow-white hair, pulling out a few tangles, as the other strayed to his chest. He was not even aware of the secondary gesture until he felt the cool tingle of Shadows seep into his fingertips. He dropped his hand with a grimace. Gods, _what_ had possessed him to take back the Millennium Ring when he spotted it in Yugi's room on the Battle Ship before their departure from Alcatraz Island a few weeks ago?!

He shuddered. No . . . he knew exactly what had "possessed" him. Or rather, "who." And . . . he had not been directly possessed, but he could look back now and recognize the faint whisperings of his "other heart" in the back of his mind.

_--Keh, you've grown far too self-aware for your own good, Host.--_

Bakura grimaced. He did not agree. If anything, he had never been aware _enough_ . . . but hours spent in the Shadow Realm had cured him of that.

It had cured him of a number of other things too. Though he had not recalled it upon first returning to the Realm of Light, as one might call the "real world" by comparison, he had since regained memory of the horrors he had witnessed – indeed, had survived – while in that terrible place. Nondescript "monsters" and half-formed horrors straight from childhood's most terrifying nightmares had chased and taunted him for countless hours. He found out later that he had been missing, his soul sealed away, for less than half-a-day . . . but it might as well have been a lifetime.

And as much as he hated to admit it . . . he knew that it had done him a world of good.

Bakura Ryou had never been a particularly forceful person, nor capable, nor notable in any other way. Well, except among the girls, he had to concede with a blush of flustered embarrassment. But his time in the Shadow Realm had forced him to learn to harness the power for which he had been hunted – he was a Shadow Mage, the Chosen One of a Millennium Item. Never mind the fact that he alone was not the Mage, the Chosen – that his Item, like only one other among the Seven, forced him to share his mind, body, and soul with an "other" half to his existence, that he was not truly complete without that other, like it or not.

He envied Mutou Yugi. As much as it pained him to admit that – Yugi was his friend! – it was horribly true. Bakura did not, and never would, share the same relationship that Yugi did with _his_ "other." But while his own other had taken refuge in the Millennium Puzzle until Malik's evil half was destroyed, Bakura himself had been forced to strengthen himself in the Shadow Realm. And it had cost the Spirit of the Millennium Ring.

Bakura had learned to harness the power within him, much as Yugi and Other-Yugi, the one they affectionately called "Yami," had done. There was an inherent reason that each Item Bearer was chosen, be it a blood tie to one of the original wielders, or mere raw Shadow-ability. Bakura had finally laid eyes on the "Voice" in his mind the day he taught himself to follow Yugi's example and pull his own soul into the depths of the Millennium Ring to confront the Spirit of the Ring on the threshold of his own soul room. It disturbed him how much "Voice" looked like him, just as Yami looked so much like Yugi.

Bakura had nearly lost that altercation, but in that too he found the determination to be what he needed to be, to be the friend that Yugi and Yami and everyone else kept trying to claim him to be. He could only do that by proving himself against the Spirit of the Ring, whom he and the others had since begun to dub "Dark Bakura." The spirit was just as much a part of him as Yami was of Yugi – as much as Bakura loathed admitting that as truth – so the "name" fit, in a disturbing sort of way. And he had proven himself capable of resisting the spirit's attempts to take over his body or even influence his mind. He knew now what it felt like, what to sense for, and so Dark Bakura had lost a great deal of ground with his "host." If Dark Bakura wanted anything, he had to negotiate with original Bakura to get it.

And the spirit was far more willing to negotiate now that he knew to what lengths his host was willing to go to stop him, even unto suicide. Dark Bakura needed his host too much, and his will to live was too strong, to push like that in earnest. And so they had learned to work together, if tentatively.

"_Oh, gods, make it STOP!!"_

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


	9. Chapter 9 Kindred Spirits

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 9 – Kindred Spirits

Bakura froze in mid-step. What was that?!

He felt Dark Bakura grimace from within. --_Sounds like that thrice-cursed Pharaoh._--

Though "his" spirit still held no love for the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle, there was at least a little less bite to the words than what he knew Dark Bakura wanted for there to be. If anything, he sounded worried.

Bakura was worried too. --_Sounds like he's in pain! A . . . a lot of it . . ._ --

--_Hn. And this is our concern because . . ._ --

"_H-help . . ."_

Bakura winced at the pitiful whimper in his friend's voice – if that were indeed Yami he was hearing – then growled at his other's callousness. --_If that _is_ Yami-san, aren't you the least bit curious what in the world could be eliciting such a response from someone like him?_--

--_No._--

Which, of course, meant "yes." Bakura had been actively working with his spirit for too long now, consciously trying to get to know and understand him – as much as it aggravated the both of them – to have failed to learn to read the true thoughts and intentions beneath the spirit's words. They were too closely bound, their souls intimately intertwined, for them to hide fully from one another any more.

Bakura thought about that for a moment. He had at last learned to accept and even embrace this whole supernatural facet of his life, and what he had gained, that insight as well as true control – essentially, his life back! – were far more than he had feared he would lose, his sanity and his individual identity. Yami and Yugi had gone a long way in helping he ensured that over the past several weeks. For that and so much more, he owed his friends so much, far more than he could ever hope to repay.

And now, at least one of those same friends was in trouble. Even if he wanted to, he could not ignore it.

"_S-stop . . . please . . ."_

Bakura shuddered, heart aching with the agony he thought he could sense wracking his friend's soul, his energy pattern. And with fear. He knew he was only getting hints of things and, quite frankly, it frightened Bakura to think what could be happening that someone as strong and capable and _stubborn_ as Yami could be reduced to such pitiful, whimpering pleas.

Bakura had long learned that it was best to try to coax Dark Bakura to work with him – if only for the spirit's own selfish reasons – than it was to force him, even though Bakura could feasibly do it. He always paid for his efforts when he pushed his other. --_If you won't help _him,_ at least let's find out what is going on so that whatever's torturing him can't come after _us!_ Or anyway, not without us being some kind of prepared . . . --_

After a very long pause, he heard the spirit murmur, --_You have a plan, my dearest Host?_-- Bakura hated with the way even such a simple comment could drip with such caustic sarcasm.

He nodded tersely, hoping no one around him on the boardwalk noticed the unintentional physical element to the mental gesture. --_Yes, actually, I do. We have the power to find other Millennium Items. The Ring acts like a sort of dousing rod, right? We find the Millennium Puzzle; we find Yami-san; we find the ones torturing Yami-san and make them stop._--

He heard the derisive snickering in his mind as if the spirit were standing over his shoulder, all but purring in his ear. --_And you've not mastered that particular ability yet, have you, my Host?_--

Bakura gritted his teeth. No, he had not. He had not yet had reason to try, and he did not bother pointing out this obvious fact to his other, who knew it as well as he did. --_Teach me, Voice,_-- he demanded, his own mental voice grinding out through proverbial teeth, --_or I take the Ring off and find him on my own!_--

--_And that would benefit you how?_-- Despite the attempt at a purr, Bakura heard the uncertainty in his other's tone.

"_Oh, gods . . ."_

--_It wouldn't, necessarily. But it would keep you from acting in his attacker's favor, since you seem to maybe side with him. Or at least sound willing leave Yami-san to whatever wolves are tearing him apart!_--

"_M-MERCY!!"_

To Bakura's surprise, the spirit snarled at Yami's desperate shriek. Then again, he supposed he should not have been. Even Dark Bakura could not deny the gravity of the situation if "the Pharaoh" were being driven to begging for mercy, something neither of them had ever known before from the other spirit no matter _what_ had befallen him. Dark Bakura had not heard the softer whimpers, but he had heard the first cry and _definitely_ that one. --_Go to him, Host. You obviously hear him better than I do. Your connection with him is stronger._--

--_What . . . spirit to spirit?_-- Bakura queried, thinking he sensed something in his other's intentions. He clenched his fists. --_And leave you in charge of my body?_--

--_Do you think we have a choice?!_-- the spirit snapped in rage, then growled almost reluctantly. --_I still need that damnable fool. He's yet to go to the museum and unlock his memories, though the gods only know why._--

And therein lay the key. Bakura had since learned a lot of things in the past few weeks – recovered memories that had been only holes in his own mind before now. He recalled a conversation in the back of the Black Crown Game Store, when Dark Bakura had told Yugi that he would support them – support Yami – so long as their paths went in the same direction, never mind his later actions during Battle City. Bakura knew that there was something Yami still possessed that Dark Bakura wanted, knowledge locked away in the other spirit's sealed memories.

Something he would never gain if he let the Pharaoh be destroyed somehow, tortured out of existence.

--_You're not hearing his vessel, right?_-- Dark Bakura continued, his devious and scheming mind working on the problem, its possible causes, and several solutions so fast that it made Bakura's head spin. --_That means that either the Pharaoh is in their body and, for all his own pain, is successfully blocking it _completely_ from his vessel –_ -- Bakura sensed that, for all that the spirit had blocked from him in the past, Dark Bakura knew that even _he_ could not keep his other half from suffering with him under that level of torture. -- _– or he's _not_ in their body and the attack is personally on him alone, in which case it may well be only a spirit who _can_ reach him wherever he's being held._--

Bakura nodded again mentally. --"_Go to him." All right . . . how do I do that?_-- He felt Dark Bakura slip his own consciousness up from the Ring and in around his own, a hand pulling the Ring from under his shirt and, this time, Bakura did not stop him.

--_The Puzzle is that way._-- Their eyes shifted to look up a street even as Bakura could feel the power of the Ring reach out to brush that of its sibling Item, the tines pointing and waving. The pair also sensed a corner of Yami's subconscious on the edges of the Puzzle's energies, felt him flinch back in mindless terror and agony from the additional invasion.

--_Yami-san!_-- Bakura gasped, horrified. Oh, gods, it was even worse than he thought. In that momentary brush, he had sensed some of what was being done. He clutched his left arm to himself with his right as he bolted up the street, left knee threatening to collapse and pitch him to the wet pavement. Even Dark Bakura refrained from comments or growls, instead silently adding his own strength to that of his host as they concentrated to maintain the tenuous link.

Up one street, around a corner, up another – soon, the clinic by the car dealership came into view. _A hospital?!_ Bakura wondered.

Dark Bakura bared a fang. --_I always knew modern doctors were the same sadistic bastards they've been all through history._--

Bakura did not even want to speculate what experience his other might have suffered to give him such a terrible opinion. His own experiences – for himself as well as family members – had always been decent. But now was not the time for that. He dashed through the front doors and into the lobby, pausing for reassessment.

The spirit read and interpreted the sensations faster than Bakura could. --_Up . . . maybe two floors, and that way probably to the other end of the building._--

Bakura nodded and crossed the lobby to the nearest check-in counter. "Elevators! Where are the elevators? Please . . . " Even breathless and scared, Bakura could not quite let himself forget his manners.

The nurse looked him up and down, eyes lingering longest on the golden hoop in his hand, the tines standing and quivering of their own accord. After a moment of silent debate, she pointed. "They're . . . that way."

"Thank you so much!" He bowed, then darted again, punching the Up button. After a few precious seconds, one of the sets of double-doors opened, and he threw himself inside, jamming the Third Floor button so hard it made his fingertip tingle.

From within, Dark Bakura reoriented. --_When we exit this thing, we'll want to go that way._--

Bakura nodded even as the doors opened once more. He dashed out and down the hall, skidding to a halt as he started to pass a large waiting room on his right only to realize he heard familiar voices. Back in a corner, he spotted Jonouchi, Honda, Anzu, Yugi's mother and grandfather, and two others he did not recognize. He did a double-take as he realized that, not only was Yugi conspicuously absent, but the Puzzle very clearly was _not_.

--_Why the hell does _Honda_ have the Millennium Puzzle?!_-- Dark Bakura growled, though there was far more alarm in his voice than real anger as the implications of what must be happening began to dawn on both souls.

Bakura looked around, spotting an overhead sign. Orthopedics. _Oh, gods . . . is Yugi-kun in surgery? Is that what's going on? Why?!_

--_Never mind that!_-- Dark Bakura snapped. --_Just get in there!_--

Bakura was already moving, dropping the Ring back against his chest as he reached for his friends. "Jonouchi-kun, Honda-kun, Anzu!!"

The group turned as one, several brows rising in surprise . . . and a bit of alarm.

"Bakura?" Jonouchi gaped, then frowned as his eyes spotted the Ring, out and easily visible. Bakura could read it in his gaze, the words he dared not say in mixed company – _How did you get here? And just which Bakura _are_ you?!_

--_Touch the Puzzle. I'll take care of the rest._--

Bakura flinched, sensing what his other had in mind. --_W-why?_--

--_You're the one who wanted to help. Besides, he wouldn't accept _my_ help even if I were so inclined to give it. Which I'm not._--

But he was willing to do this much.

Bakura shivered before steeling his mind and heart for what he was about to do. --_All right . . . but no sending anyone to the Shadow Realm while I'm gone. Do you hear me?!_--

He felt Dark Bakura give a nasty grin . . . and knew also that it was more for effect than anything. --_Only if no one gives me reason. Now, go!_--

Bakura had been ignoring the questions and comments around him, eyes focusing on Honda's. "E-excuse me, Honda-kun . . . " He slapped a hand flat to the front of the Millennium Puzzle, his palm cupping the bas-relief Horus Eye in the center. He was aware of the chill of the Shadows for just an instant before a violent sensation – half a feeling of being shoved from behind and half yanked from in front – scrambled his senses.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10 Through the Fire

Author's Note: No, I do not "ship" this. Please read and take this for what it is. Thank you.

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 10 – Through the Fire

_Owww . . . _

Bakura lay for a moment as he had fallen, feeling rough, cool stone beneath his cheek. _Stone?_

He shifted up to his elbows, eyes peering into the darkness. His sight adjusted instantly, which surprised him until he realized why – it was because he was not utilizing normal vision.

_Did . . . did I make it, then? Am I in the Puzzle?_

He lay in a dim corridor of some kind, a stonework hall with a door on either side of him. He pushed to his knees, contemplating the two doors. On his left, the door was unmarked but painted a bright, cheery yellow, the interlocking brickwork around it smooth and clean. From behind that door, Bakura thought he could sense a slow, even heartbeat. Too slow for Bakura's comfort, to be perfectly honest. But it was the door on his right that really demanded attention.

Bakura was no longer unfamiliar with soul rooms. He too had a corridor similar to this one within his own heart, and a very similar door across from his room. As with his own, the walls on this side of the hall were comprised of the same interlocking brickwork as the other side, but they were raised all along the height and length as if great veins or tree roots ran every which way just beneath the surface. The door was similarly veined, an iron-bound portal of heavy wood with a Horus Eye dominating the upper half.

And from within came the muffled cacophony of agony and terror that had been pounding at him since that first cry for help.

Bakura climbed rather shakily to his feet, hesitating to reach for the door's handle. So much pain and fear in there! It frightened him. But then he remembered whose fear he was sensing. Yami's. And with the slow heartbeat of the other door, Bakura could only guess that Yugi was completely unconscious, likely under anesthesia, if he were indeed undergoing some kind of surgery. Which meant that Yami was in there all alone to bear the pain of what was being done to their body.

Bakura shuddered. He had not known it in those times – and for that, at least, he supposed he could be thankful to his other half – but, as he had regained memories and knowledge, he knew too that anything done to the body could be felt by both souls. Scratch that – _would_ be, unless the consciousness of one was being blocked by the other. Bakura rubbed his arms, recalling after the fact the agony of standing in the blast of Osiris's attack during the Battle City Semi-Finals.

Another whimpering sob drew Bakura's attention . . . and helped harden his resolve. No one, not even Yami – especially not Yami! – should have to face this terrible ordeal alone. Dark Bakura had given him the nudge he had needed to get here quickly, before the others could suspect either of them and draw away, "protecting" the Puzzle. And now that he was here, he owed his friend. If he could help ease the other's suffering at all, then he would do so!

It struck him that he was likely the only one who could . . .

Squaring his shoulders, he laid his fingers gingerly across the handle of the door and let the energies of his intention, his questioning offer, seep through that soft touch to the consciousness on the other side.

He felt vague recognition, a swell of subconscious relief and welcome, and he was in. It was not that he stepped through the door – such a concept limited one to the physical, while this was a psychological landscape governed by far different rules – but that, with a thought, he simply _was_ on the other side. He glanced around the room, eyes taking in the impossible architecture without really seeing it. At the question of his heart, the one he sought appeared before him.

"Ah! Y-yami-san!!" Bakura dropped to his knees, gathering into his arms the trembling body of his friend, who lay curled up at his feet in a tight fetal position. With the touch of his own soul's energy pattern so directly to Yami's, Bakura choked as Yami's agony tore through him, more powerfully than before. But with it, too, came something else.

"_Dammit! Pay attention!" "Y-you're hurt pretty bad." "Head wounds bleed an alarming amount even if they're only small cuts." "I'm a trauma nurse with Domino Medical Clinic . . . There's been an accident."_

_I heard a gunshot._

_An ambulance, perhaps? . . . Honda. It has to be._

_. . . never been in so much pain . . . has to be Yugi's surgery . . . surgeries could last hours . . . _

_M-MERCY!!_

Sobs choked Bakura's throat even as the body in his arms shifted, eyes cracking open, blinking in their attempt to focus, the consciousness struggling to return from an even deeper reserve into which it had withdrawn in an attempt to escape the torture. "B-bakur-ra . . . ?"

Bakura felt bad in a way, that his presence had pulled Yami back to the "surface" like this. He plastered a grin on his face, ignoring the tears streaking his cheeks. "Yes . . . it's me, Yami-san. Y-you're . . . you're going to be all right." It sounded so hollow and false even in his own ears, but he could not think of anything else to say.

Yami writhed in his arms, his breathing choked and shallow, but he managed a small nod. "H-how . . . " His voice failed him, even as Bakura could feel him trying to push back the agony and fear, to put up his strong front in the presence of another, to hide his weakness as he always had to. Bakura even sensed that Yami would have pulled from his embrace if only he had the strength to do so. He watched as Yami swallowed and tried again. "H-how . . . how did you . . . ?"

"Get in here?" Bakura schooled from his features the frown of concern that wanted to express itself. _Poor Yami-san_, he thought. No matter what the other spirit ever went through, he always had to be so strong, to betray no weakness whatsoever. Suddenly, Bakura wondered how many other times Yami had suffered and no one had ever been the wiser. The thought saddened him deeply, and he put on another grin to hide it. "Would you believe Dark Bakura?" He felt the body stiffen ever further in his arms, and he wrapped them all more around his friend, washing him with comforting intentions. "No! No, no! I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that! It's okay! You don't have to fight, not this time . . . " More tears came to his eyes. "You don't have to fight. I promise. Just try to relax, Yami-san. It's okay. I've got you now. You're not alone anymore. L-listen . . . " He licked his lips, which were dry with shock and reaction. "There's a bunch of people outside of here, in the waiting room for Orthopedics at the clinic by the bay. I'm pretty sure Yugi-kun's completely under the anesthesia. He's not aware of anything at all." He had not thought about it until just then, but suddenly he knew that had been a deep concern of Yami's. "Jonouchi-kun, Anzu . . . Honda-kun has the Puzzle at the moment . . . Yugi-kun's mom and grandpa . . . Voice is out there with them right now, but it's okay." And it really was, at least for now. If he turned his attention outward for a moment, he could actually follow a little of what was happening outside and suspected he could further strengthen that connection with a little more concentration, though he risked pulling himself out of Yami's soul room and back into his own body if he were not careful. "He's just manning our body so I can be in here with you. He's even managing to be half-way civil!" He forced a soft laugh.

Yami's grimace probably would have been a grin if he had not been in such unbelievable pain. "T-that's . . . a-a surp-prise – !!" The rest of the comment degraded instantly and without warning into a sobbing shriek as Yami bucked suddenly, head throwing back as his arm jerked in an unnatural way, and Bakura could all but feel the bones in his own arm being pulled apart as if to be reset.

Bakura sobbed, scared by the pain and the helplessness to stop it. _Oh, gods . . . Yami-san, how can you bear this?!_ But that was it, was it not? Yami was _not_ very well bearing this, not well at all. And was that not what Bakura had come in here to help with?

He swallowed, then pulled Yami more fully into his lap, scooting them both a few feet so that Bakura could put his back to the door of the soul room. He knew that he was going to need that support. He could sense Yami trying to pull in mentally, to protect Bakura from feeling any more of what was happening than could be helped, and he shook his head, tears dripping down his nose as he tried to glare at the Duelist in his arms. "Yami-san, stop that! Stop trying to block me. Open up to me, darn it! That's what I came in here for! Share with me! M-maybe I can help take the edge of off this . . . " The thought terrified him, that he would willingly open himself to feeling ever more directly the surgery that was torturing his friend, but he owed Yami so much that he could not in his heart justify doing any less. He switched to another, more familiar honorific to help make his point. "P-please, Yami-kun. Please let me help . . . "

Yami shook his head, a jerky motion further emphasized by his deep trembling. "N-no!" He swallowed, fighting to find a center in the agony, a focus from which to make some kind of mental stand, and it grieved Bakura to sense it. _He must have so much experience with doing stuff like that._ "N-no, B-bakura. Y-you don't . . . don't w-want this. G-go. I-I'll . . . I'll be all right."

"Of course you will be." The quiet anguish in his own tone surprised Bakura, but he plowed on anyway. "You always are, no matter what. I know that from Yugi-kun . . . but I also know that even Yugi-kun isn't allowed to help you the way you need to let him sometimes." He sat Yami up a bit, leaning the other's head into his shoulder the way he remembered his mother doing to him as a child, comforting him after one of his nightmares. He was sure Yami was unaware of his own tucking in, taking subconscious solace from the embrace . . . and that Yami would pull away the instant he realized it. Or try to. Bakura determined in that moment that he would not allow it, and right now Yami was too hurt and exhausted to manage to overcome him. "You're not a weak person – not now, not ever. You're incredibly strong . . . but it's okay to relent just a little from time to time, to take a break and let someone else be the rock just for a moment." He was not sure Yami was hearing him, curled up and shaking the way he was, turned almost completely inward again. He petted carefully at Yami's unruly locks, gently combing through with his fingers the way his mother used to do for him. He felt Yami relax just a bit.

And then, Yami sobbed once, a soft, choked whimper of a sound . . . and again . . . and finally turned even further into Bakura, a hand clutching at his shirt. Bakura grinned in spite of himself and the situation. Yami's thick walls of defensiveness, protectiveness, and stubborn pride were eroding quickly in the warmth of the arms embracing him, offering the comfort and protection he so desperately needed right now. _That's it . . . let go. You're safe. I've got you . . . just like you've always had me, and everyone else around you. Time to rest and let someone else be the strong one._ Not that he had any illusions about his own strength, but right now he was all Yami had. _It's going to be okay, Yami-kun. I promise. Just let me in. Let me bear this with you. You don't have to face this alone._

Another strangled noise, and then Yami was sobbing uncontrollably as a dam seemed to break. Bakura cracked his head back against the door behind him as Yami's agony slammed through him with the greatest force yet. _Oh, gods!!_ Bakura found himself barely keeping his head above proverbial water as the agony washed over and through him like a deluge, running hot and cold through him all at once. It scrambled his senses, and he panted, fighting to breathe. _Is this the true extent of what you've been facing, Yami-kun?!_

_Y-yes . . . I-I'm s-sorry . . . I-I . . . should not h-have . . . _

_No! No, it's . . . it's okay . . . I-I just . . . I wasn't prepared . . . _

Words were no longer necessary, not as the mouth speaks them. The two spirits could sense one another's intentions, "hear" the thoughts carried on currents of pain. It was awkward at first, but quickly they found a balance with one another, each sharing the agony and, by doing so, taking the edge off of the other. In that resonance, the pain seemed to die down to a more tolerable level – still torturous, but Bakura felt Yami begin to regain more of his senses, able to think more clearly than he had been able to do for some time. With it, Yami's fear calmed as well.

_I-I'm sorry . . . _

_Apologize again, Yami-kun, and I'll sic Voice on you. And he'll enjoy it. You know he will._

Bakura's attempt at humor was rewarded with a low chuckle, then an exhausted sigh. _Thank you . . . Bakura-kun._

Bakura grinned, genuine if stressed with pain. _I'm glad to be here. I really am. You're my friend, Yami-kun. You'd have done the same for me._ He tightened his embrace around the body in his arms, one that felt suddenly very slim and frail, more so than his own, in fact. He grimaced and pushed that impression away even as he was rewarded with the feeling of Yami letting himself settle a little further still, nesting himself in this rare comfort.

_Just for a moment . . . just one more moment . . . _

Bakura could hear the litany he was not meant to know as Yami tried without success to fight the lull of the embrace that cradled him, to keep himself from being "weak" even now . . . even though both of them knew it was only doing him good. Bakura shook his head. _One moment or a thousand . . . I'm here for as long as you need me. It's okay . . ._ He found himself starting to rock a little as his fingers combed through Yami's hair again. _Try to get some sleep, Yami-kun . . ._ That would likely be impossible – both of them could still feel the work being done on Yugi's body – but if Yami could at least get a bit of rest, restore his psyche from this trauma, he would be in far better shape to handle things later. _No one's going to hurt you._ Well, aside from what the doctors were doing . . . _No one's going to threaten you, Yami-kun. I'm here, and Voice is just outside. So are Jonouchi-kun, Honda-kun, Anzu, Mutou-Grandfather and a lot of other people. Let _us_ take care of _you_ for once. It's about time, don't you think? Do try to relax and get some rest, please. You're safe. I swear it._

Tucked against his chest, Yami nodded mutely, thoroughly exhausted even though the ordeal was far from over. It did seem as if the worst of the surgery was past, though – nothing major had felt yanked, broken, or otherwise manipulated for some minutes – and Bakura rubbed a hand softly up and down Yami's arm as the other curled up, slipping into a fitful lower level of consciousness.

_Yes . . . there . . . there you go. Rest well, my friend. _

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11 Truce

Author's Note: HOLY CRAP – it's been a _year_ since I posted on this last?! TT-TT Well . . . as my bio says, I have a chronic disease that's been kicking my ass for over two years now, and this past year especially, but that no matter how long a story sits fallow, it's _not_ abandoned or even really properly "on hold" unless overtly marked so. It's just been that long since my body and brain have played nice and decided to let me think straight well enough to be creative. I know this chapter is short, maybe disappointingly so for having waited for so long, but if it's any consolation, the next chapter is completed as well so you won't be waiting _near_ as long for it – I just need to check one detail against canon first . . . and it's obscure enough I'm not even sure where to look, but I'm anal, so…LOL Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Thanks for your patience!

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 11 – Truce

"B-BAKURA!?"

Dark Bakura chose not to resist when hands grabbed his arms, Jonouchi and Yugi's grandfather hauling him back from Honda after he'd grabbed at the Puzzle to get Host's soul into it.

"Bakura-kun, what do you think you're doing?" Mutou Sugoroku demanded.

Dark Bakura shrugged, looking from the old man to Honda with a wicked smirk. "Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Just a little surprised to see the Puzzle on someone _else_ . . . "

The fools weren't blind – had they not been sure before, they had to know with that exactly who was in charge. Proving him right, he watched Jonouchi's eyes darken further as he put a hand to the back of the embodied spirit's shoulder and shoved, no doubt intent on getting the "dangerous snake" away from innocent bystanders: namely the Mutou woman, another woman Dark Bakura was fairly sure he recognized from the few visits his host had made to the Honda residence, and a new face entirely – a spindly young man a few years' Host's elder who sat nearby on one of the waiting room chairs looking more than a little shell-shocked. Dark Bakura decided he was of no more consequence than the women and allowed himself to be led away.

He saw Honda and Anzu follow them, while Sugoroku stayed behind to handle the women. The spirit knew that the old man had finally learned quite a bit about his grandson's secret life in the weeks following Battle City, mainly prompted by some comment he had reportedly made, something that had the Pharaoh's Vessel realizing that the man who had given him the Puzzle to begin with knew a little more about what he had done than the boy ever realized. _"All I know is, the one who solves the Millennium Puzzle inherits the will of the Pharaoh . . . "_

_Keh, not to mention all the arrogant bastard's problems_. But that was not the Spirit of the Ring's concern. Anything that threatened the Pharaoh or his Vessel – well, except him of course – threatened the spirit's chances at getting what _he_ wanted, and therefore would not be tolerated, and since he had learned that he could not simply gather the Millennium Items to get what he wanted – to open the Door to the Underworld – but also needed the Pharaoh's true name from the depths of his memories, Dark Bakura had quietly sworn himself to protect that damnable fool until such time as the other _did_ finally get around to recovering that. And do so he would.

He felt his fists clench at his sides. It would all be for naught if that idiot Vessel died on some operating table where there was nothing the spirit _could_ do.

The shift of Jonouchi's hand on his shoulder – back to front and gripping to turn Dark Bakura to face him – pulled him from his frustrated thoughts, and his eyes snapped up to meet the former street punk's.

"All right, what are you doin' here? And where's Bakura?" They had withdrawn across the waiting room so as not to be heard by those who did not know the supernatural side of everyone's lives, but Jonouchi's voice was still a harsh whisper to further ensure they were not overheard.

Dark Bakura leaned back, arms crossing as he smirked at the three of them, deliberately flashing a bit of fang. "Isn't it obvious? Someone has to man the body while its primary spirit is otherwise occupied. And as for Host . . . " His arms uncrossed coolly as he shifted to point at the Puzzle. "He's in there, with your precious Pharaoh."

He enjoyed the shock on their faces, idly wondering who would recover first. Apparently the girl was more resilient than her guy friends.

Anzu's eyes narrowed in anger, and she hissed at him. "You locked Bakura-kun into the Millennium Puzzle?!"

"This isn't some repeat of Monster World, is it?!" Honda growled, visibly torn between keeping himself – keeping the Puzzle – out of arm's reach and wanting to step forward and throttle the spirit.

Jonouchi did so for him, burying both fists in the front of Bakura's shirt. "Pull him back out – NOW – or so help me, I'll-?! Oww!"

Dark Bakura had interrupted the threat by reaching both his hands up over Jonouchi's, grabbing and squeezing the meat at the base of the thumbs, twisting out and down to force the hands painfully open and away. "You'll what?" he asked, sneering. "Challenge me to a Duel? Right here in the hospital? And what can you do against me without your _precious Pharaoh?_" He let his gaze take in all three, enjoying both the determination and the realization in their eyes – they'd certainly _try_ to fight him, even as they knew the three of them alone didn't have the power to win. He snorted as he stepped a bit further back, crossing his arms again. "Besides, I just did that idiot a _favor_ by sending Host in there with him."

Anzu blinked in confusion. "Did Yami a…favor?"

Honda eyed him speculatively. "You two came here knowing something was wrong. That _was_ Bakura who first approached us, wasn't it? So he already knew you were going to send him into the Puzzle."

"Hn." _Something like that_.

The girl was wringing her hands now, some kind of little beanbag caught between her palms. "I-is . . . is there something wrong with Yami? Did one of you sense something?"

Dark Bakura considered for a moment just how much to reveal and what might be to his best advantage to keep for now. "Host has a strong connection with both the Pharaoh and his Vessel-"

Jonouchi's irritated growl interrupted him. "They got names, you know."

"The Pharaoh doesn't," Dark Bakura reminded him with a smirk. When the punk relented unhappily, he continued. "Host didn't sense anything from…_Yugi_" – He cut a glance at Jonouchi, conceding the name but almost as an epithet. – "but he _could_ hear the Pharaoh . . . screaming in agony." He paused again, smirk deepening a bit, as he let that sink in.

Anzu's eyes went wide with horror, one hand clapping over her mouth as the other clutched that silly beanbag thing to her chest. Jonouchi reeled back a bit, eyes going hollow in shock even as he seemed to be trying to think what might be the cause. Honda grunted and caught up the Puzzle in both hands, staring down at it as though by force of will he could look inside to see what was wrong. Bakura bit back a chuckle at that.

This time, it was Jonouchi to find his voice first. "S-screaming? Yami?! No way!!"

Anzu's eyes had shifted to the Puzzle, her voice heartbreaking in its worry. "Yami-kun…" She turned back to the spirit and demanded, "What's happening to him?! What's wrong?"

"Thought at first that they'd been captured and someone was torturing the Pharaoh. Keh, turns out I was half _right_ after all."

"W-what?!" Anzu choked.

Honda gasped in horror. "The surgery! H-he must…be aware…" The color drained from his face, and he looked like he was going to be sick.

Dark Bakura might have grinned in sadistic enjoyment were the knowledge that he shared the same weakness not grating at him just then. "Anesthesia knocks out the physical body and shoves the original consciousness into _un_consciousness, but apparently the secondary one fails to share that benefit."

Jonouchi sucked a low gasp through his teeth, then breathed in horror, "Yami's _feeling_ the surgery…" His sudden pallor matched his buddy's, and the girl's, whose legs went weak for a moment. Honda caught her.

Dark Bakura watched them for a moment, almost finding himself wanting to sympathize with them, recalling the experience of watching loved ones tortured and murdered. The memories were dusty with age, great distance and greater time passage having all but obscured them, but they were there. He _remembered_.

And if it meant now helping the one who had been _responsible_ for that, even indirectly – after all, did not the son inherit the sins of his father? – in order to ultimately right that horrific wrong, then he would.

For now.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	12. Chapter 12 Ripples

Author's Note: Like ripples on water, it's amazing how many others one single life can touch.

Quick shout-out to Frenziedpanda7 for looking up something for me that might have taken me eight times longer. THANKS! And SORRY to everyone! I thought I'd posted this by now… 9,9;;;

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"The Definition of Family"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 12 – Ripples

Otogi pulled open the door of the Mutous' game shop, and a little bell tinkled merrily over his head. Pulling his arm from around Shizuka, he turned to shake out the umbrella they'd been sharing as he called over his shoulder. "Oy, Mutou-Grandfather! I've got some overstock you might be interested in."

Beside him, Shizuka stepped in and gazed around the shop with a small grin and a shine in her eyes, apparently delighted by the quaint little store. Otogi grinned and shook his head, having to remind himself that Jonouchi's younger sister had not been here before. She had been eager to come with him.

"Otogi-kun?"

Otogi looked to spot Hanasaki Tomoya peeking up over the sales counter, his hands still in one of the displays below as he arranged a set of unpainted Monster World miniatures. One of their classmates and an old friend of Yugi's, Otogi knew that Mutou-Grandfather had hired the guy part-time to help cover the shop when Yugi couldn't. "Oh, hey, Hanasaki-kun. Is Grandfather around?"

Hanasaki closed and locked the back wall of the display and stood, and even then he was barely head-and-shoulders taller than the counter. Otogi stifled a grimace for the poor guy, knowing he suffered from the same pituitary dwarfism that Yugi did. In fact, he was even shorter. Hanasaki offered him and Shizuka a small bow, then was pushing the frames of very large, thick, round glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Hi, Otogi-kun. Hello, miss. No, Mutou-Grandfather's not here. He's . . . h-he's at the hospital."

Otogi stiffened in alarm, so much so that Shizuka gave him a questioning look, brushing his arm with a hand in a silent attempt at comfort. Grandfather had a bad heart and had been in the hospital twice already in under two years. Yugi had told him all about it. Granted, the second time had been because he had no soul, no thanks to one Pegasus J. Crawford, but the first time had resulted in the implantation of a pacemaker – no thanks to Kaiba Seto, actually. Otogi remembered Yugi telling him that Jonouchi had called Hanasaki, asking him to go to the hospital to be with Grandfather since none of them could – Yugi's mother was out of town that week and Yugi, Jonouchi, Anzu and Honda had been balls-deep in Kaiba's Death-T "amusement" park.

Hanasaki must have read the thoughts on his face. "N-no, he's fine, this time, but . . . Y-yugi-kun . . . " He worried at a cleaning rag he picked up from the top of the counter next to a bottle of glass cleaner, hands twisting into the fabric. "I-it's Yugi-kun! He was . . . h-hit by a car . . . a few hours ago now. He was taken to the hospital right away."

Shizuka gasped in horror, soft brown eyes popping wide as she gripped Otogi's arm. "Y-yugi-san! N-no!"

Otogi stood rooted for a moment as his brain processed that, his voice breathless when he spoke. "Y-yugi-kun . . ." He swallowed, then stifled a choke as a second thought occurred to him. "Hanasaki-kun, w-what about – " He stopped himself, his hand going to his stomach where the Puzzle normally hung. He…realized he didn't know if Hanasaki knew about Yami or not, and otherwise asking about the state of their friend's "gold bling" might just be taken in _really_ bad taste considering the circumstances.

Shizuka saw the gesture, realized what he couldn't ask, and choked as well, free hand clapping over her mouth as her other tightened on Otogi's arm, murmuring softly, "Yami-sama!"

Otogi swallowed, laying a reassuring hand over hers, and tried again, finding his voice. "W-what about . . . t-the others?"

Hanasaki shook his head. "I-I don't know, b-but I guess they're okay. Honda-kun's sister and her husband w-were opening that new snack shop down by the bay today, a-and the guys were going down for that. I stayed home because my dad just got back last night for a visit – you know he works in America, right? – a-and I wanted to spend the day with him. B-but then Mutou-Grandfather called to ask if I wouldn't mind manning the store b-because he really can't afford for it to be closed right now but he _needed_ to go to the hospital a-and-!" And he cut himself off, seeming to realize that he was rambling out of worry, hands twisting harder on the rag in his grip.

Otogi exchanged glances with Shizuka, and he read his own thoughts in her eyes. He turned back to Hanasaki. "Which hospital? The one by the bay?"

Hanasaki nodded, and Shizuka looked surprisingly grim. "Unless they've changed things in the last nine years, I know the bus routes to get to that hospital. Come on!" She grabbed Otogi's wrist and spun for the door.

Otogi yelped in surprised. "Whoa, wait! S-shizuka-chan!"

"Otogi-kun!" he heard Hanasaki call after them. "Please let everyone know I'll be there as soon as the Kame is closed! I'll have my parents bring me over. That'll be quicker than the bus!"

"W-will do!" Otogi called back as he stumbled out the door, still being dragged by the wrist. The door closed behind him with another soft tinkle of bell, now a discordant, inappropriately-happy jangle in Otogi's ears.

"Shizuka-chan, leggo!" Several paces up the street, Otogi finally managed to pull his hand free of the girl's grip, their skin and clothes damp from the light rain since he'd not even had a chance to get his umbrella open once more. She was, if nothing else, her brother's sister – impulsive and forceful when she wanted or felt the need to be.

Not that now wasn't a time to feel the need to be.

"Well, then, hurry _up_!" Shizuka fussed, quickening her own pace to a near-run. "We might miss the bus, and the next one won't come for almost twenty minutes!"

Otogi nodded and stepped up his own pace, long legs eating up the distance.

He joined Shizuka as she dropped, panting slightly, onto the bench at the bus stop a few minutes later, heedless of the wet surface, and studied her for a moment. "You said . . . that you know the route to the hospital pretty well?" He was hesitant, not sure if he should pry or not – that was potentially _very _private territory and went back to business from before he had met her, though he guessed it had to do with her eyesight and the operation she'd had right before Battle City.

Shizuka grimaced and nodded. "It's been a long time, but I used to go there often enough with Mom and Katsuya-Big-Brother. That's where my eye doctor was. Because of my condition, I couldn't go to a normal optometrist. I needed a specialist, and he happened to be at that hospital."

Otogi nodded and leaned back against the bench, letting his lined leather jacket take the chill of the cold, wet metal. It was another moment before he spoke. "You'd come to town to surprise your brother with a visit. You know he's going to be doubly-glad to see you _now_ . . . "

"Y-yes . . . " Shizuka chewed her bottom lip. "Thank you for helping me with this."

Otogi shrugged and flashed her a charming grin. "Hey, I'm always at the service of a pretty girl." There wasn't nearly as much feeling behind the flirt as he normally would have put into it, since he knew now that she had a real interest in Honda, when all was said and done, and he was not a creep who tried to lure girls from other guys . . . even if those other guys were too shy to get up the nerve to approach a girl himself.

And now was not the time for flirting anyway.

He pulled out his cell phone, updated his father on what was going on concerning the overstock and the Mutous' crisis and, just as he was hanging up, the bus pulled around a corner down the street, and the two of them stood and flagged the driver to stop for them. They climbed on, paid the fare, and found seats, neither speaking. Shizuka sat wringing her hands in her lap, her gaze turned out the window, while Otogi barely registered the trio of dice that had found their way from a pocket into one hand as he worried them around between his thumb and fingers. He flinched in mild surprise when Shizuka's voice broke the silence.

"D-do you think they'll be okay, Otogi-san?"

"Hm? 'They'?"

"Yugi-san and Yami-sama." She turned and looked at him, tears threatening in her eyes. "Yami-sama is bound to Yugi-san, right? Isn't that what you all explained on the Battle Ship that night heading out to Alcatraz Island? So if one is hurt, they'd both feel it – they'd _both_ be hurt? And not just when it's one of those Duels?"

Pending grief – for _two_ friends even, not just one – stuck Otogi's breath in his throat for a moment, and he mentally admonished himself even as he slipped an arm around the girl's shoulders and pulled her into a hug. _You don't know how bad it is yet. Hell, it could be nothing! Don't grieve yet. Those two have survived far worse than a stupid car. Be strong – for Shizuka-chan if nothing else._ He swallowed. "Y-yeah, they're bound pretty deeply, so I'd guess that what happens to one, they both know it . . . but I'm sure they'll be fine. Don't you worry, Shizuka-chan. We'll get to the hospital, you'll surprise your brother, and he'll be really glad to have his sister there to help support him. They'll all be glad to see you again. And Yugi-kun and Yami will be glad you came too. You'll see."

Shizuka curled into him, nodding against his shoulder which he could feel dampening with her tears, and he blinked back his own as he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling of the bus. _Yugi-kun . . . Yami . . . _

_Gods, please let them be okay . . . _

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